


Irresistible

by glymr, iesika



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim never realized how much losing his virginity would change things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one can say ‘no’ to Dick Grayson.

It’s a fact. A constant of the universe.

Wait. _Batman_ can. But he’s the exception to most universal constants, Tim thinks.

Everyone else, though...

This is the guy who once sweet-talked _Deathstroke the Terminator_ out of a contract.

Tim thinks he should study this phenomenon further. But not now.

Right now he’s busy getting his lip nibbled ( _oh god_ ) and feeling Dick’s hands trace down his sides to cup his hips. Dick pulls back just a little and smiles at him, that brilliant, beautiful, _blinding_ smile. “Why haven’t we done this before?” he asks.

“I was...too young?” Tim seems to be having trouble breathing.

“Were you?” Dick seems mildly surprised by the idea. He chuckles, and Tim can feel the breath on his cheek, warm and very, very _Dick_. When Dick leans down to nip at his neck, Tim lets his eyes fall shut and tries *very* hard not to whimper. Dick goes on absently, “I was only...hn. Fifteen? When Kory and I first-”

“I know,” says Tim without thinking. Then he bites his lip, but Dick doesn’t say anything, and Tim thinks maybe he didn’t understand...

Then Dick snorts. “I keep forgetting. Stalker. Right.”

Tim closes his eyes tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Dick’s smiling against his neck. “ _I_ don’t care. And if you think Kory does..?” he laughs. “You don’t know her very well.”

If Tim’s face weren’t already flushed red, he’d be blushing. It was never Kory he collected articles about, followed around, spied on, _jerked off to_. He gasps and wriggles as Dick’s fingers dip under the waistband of his tights, a teasing touch.

“Did you watch us?” Dick breathes into his ear. “Were you there with your camera, outside the window?” His voice gets rough. He _likes_ the thought. Tim squirms under the sensory onslaught, arches as Dick tugs at his tights.

And it’s embarrassing as _hell,_ but Dick _likes_ the thought. “Not-” He gasps. Dick’s tongue is in his ear. It’s very distracting. “Not the first time.”

His honesty is rewarded by a pleased hum, a thick chuckle. “You can watch me any time.” He writhes against Tim’s side and slips his hand into Tim’s pants. “I’ll put on a show just for you. Or we can-” Tim bucks into his hand, and Dick laughs again. “We can turn the big mirror in your room toward the bed? Hmm? So that you can watch me fuck you? Watch yourself _lose it_.”

“Oh god,” Tim wails. He grabs Dick’s arm and holds on, eyes pressed tightly shut. There’s still a part of him that can’t believe this is happening - that Dick is touching him - that Dick would _want to._

And he knows it’s a bad idea. Dick has so many admirers, so many _lovers_. People better looking than Tim. Stronger. More sophisticated. Less inhibited. The only thing Tim has ever had to offer Dick is...himself - little as that is. His devotion, obsession, which is something much, much greater.

But that didn’t help him say no to this, when Dick tackled him to the floor of the changing room, before Tim had even gotten his shirt over his head. It’s not helping him now, to keep from bucking into Dick’s hand. From writhing to help as Dick pulls his tights down his legs one-handed, turning them inside out in his haste.

“You looked so good out there,” Dick pants, grinning. He rises up above Tim, looking down as his hand pumps faster. “Look good _now._ ” He lets go, and Tim wails, grasping at the air Dick had occupied a moment before. He watches as Dick rises up, arches his back, and strips off the shirt of his uniform - watches with his mouth dry and his stomach churning.

Dick has an erection. That shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s easy to see, straining under the too-thin material of Dick’s uniform. Tim licks his lips and tries to sit up, but Dick pushes him back down.

“Love the way you watch me. Love your _eyes_ on me.” He strokes himself through the tights, and then he stands and strips them quickly off, tossing them aside before dropping back to his knees. Tim arches his hips and hopes Dick will get the hint - he left something unfinished, here - but Dick turns away and comes back with a discarded glove.

Tim is baffled until Dick opens one of the wrist compartments and pulls out a small tube. Oh. _Oh._ Tim shivers all over, hard, and this time he does sit up, reaching- touching Dick’s chest and Dick’s thighs and the tight muscles of his stomach. Two condoms fall from the open compartment as Dick drops the glove, and Tim reaches for one, only to have Dick’s hand land on his and lift it to his mouth.

He licks Tim’s fingers. Sucks them. “I’m clean. I usually use them, but...I take the same tests you take - every month, and after significant blood exposures.” He bites the pad of Tim’s thumb, teeth scraping against sensitive flesh. “I don’t want anything between us. I want to _feel_ you. I want you to feel _me-”_

“ _Yes!_ ” Tim interrupts. Oh god, he’s thought about this. He’s _thought_ about this, so many times, what it would be like, and when Dick surges forward, kissing him hard, licking into his mouth, Tim knows the fantasies weren’t nearly good enough. Dick is hard between them, and Tim touches him - he _touches him_. Not even stroking - just feeling him.

He feels so _good._

Tim brings his fingers to his lips on impulse, licking, tasting. It’s not a disagreeable flavor - no more so than Tim’s own semen, and probably … probably less so. But of course that’s true, because this is _Dick_. He groans around his fingers with that knowledge, and the groan seems to do something to Dick, because he pushes Tim over backward again, kissing him over and over while Tim tries to get his fingers out of the way.

“ _Hot,_ ” Dick growls, and then, with a tug to Tim’s hip, “roll over.”

He’s obeying before he’s even fully processed the words, flipping onto his hands and knees with a single smooth motion. Dick growls again, and the sound makes Tim’s whole body hum as though in resonance.

The first touch against his back makes him jump. He shivers and whines, drawing a chuckle from Dick. It gives him goosebumps even more than the growl did. Tim’s so hard he aches, and he doesn’t care, because Dick is sliding his hand lower, cupping his ass and...and...

Pressing, just at the edge, finger slick and cool. Tim groans and his hips jerk despite himself. Dick is...god. _Teasing_ him, dipping in and out lightly, never penetrating more than about a centimeter, and Tim thinks that if this goes on much longer he’s going to *die*.

“Like that?” There are warm lips on his lower back.

“Uh,” he says.

“Hmmm.” Dick’s amused hum vibrates against his skin.

“M-more?” he manages, breathless.

“Mmm. If you’re sure...” Dick doesn’t even increase the pressure.

“I’m s-sure!”

“Really?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“Positive?”

“Goddamnit Dick, just _fuck me_ already!”

Dick’s voice is mock-wounded. “I just wanted to be *sure*, Tim. No need to shout.”

Tim is about to snap back something pithy but instead it comes out as a sharp gasp, because Dick chooses that moment to finally press _in_. “I wouldn’t *need* to if- Ah!” He sucks in air hard, closing his eyes and just _feeling_ Dick’s fingers inside him, filling him. “Oh god,” he mutters, “god, _Dick_ -”

“We’ll get to that part, I promise,” says Dick, and Tim can hear the wicked smile in his voice. It makes Tim buck and twist his hips, pushing back. There’s a burn, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Tim has been _practicing_ for this.

He never thought it would actually happen, but he’d practiced anyway.

“You look so good from back here,” Dick breathes, and it’s probably another joke, but the way Dick says it doesn’t _sound_ like he’s joking. “Love the way you move.”

Tim feels something brush the dimple at the base of his spine, and then his cheek. He’s confused for a moment, because Dick’s got one hand holding onto him, and the other spearing _into_ him - but then he feels something wet and realizes Dick is _kissing_ him back there. “Ungh,” he says, intelligently, and bucks again.

Apparently that was Dick’s intention, because he makes a happy sound against Tim’s skin. “So _hungry.._. You really want this. Opening right up for me...”

Tim whines high in his throat and drops his head. He can feel himself clenching, grasping around Dick’s fingers, and wills the muscles to relax.

“Oooh, that’s it, that’s right,” says Dick, and he sounds so _pleased_ , his voice warm with approval. It sends a heat coursing through Tim, makes him tremble and writhe and sigh. Dick speaks again, slow and dark and sweet, like molasses. “ _Just_...like...that.” The stretch increases, the burn intensifies a bit. Dick’s adding a finger, Tim realizes, and has a sudden vision of himself, speared on Dick’s hand. It makes him twitch. He watches himself drip precome onto the floor as though in slow motion.

Dick is really about to fuck him. He folds his arms and presses his face to them, groaning. Surely he looks ridiculous with his ass up in the air, but Dick isn’t laughing. Dick is making more of those low, warm, happy sounds, like he does when Tim does something good and tricky in a spar. The sound makes Tim hump back and spread his legs wider. He wants to hear it again.

He wants to hear it _always_ , feel that little puff of air against his spine, the slick, tight slide, out and _in_... always. Dick’s in deep enough to stroke against his prostate, now, and Tim moans and shivers and presses back. “Dick! I really don’t want to _come_ before you- ah!” He yelps as the fingers slide out a little too quickly.

“Close, huh. _God_ you’re hot. Okay we really do need to do this in front of a mirror sometime, because the way your little _hole_ is twitching...” He lets go of Tim’s erection and shifts behind him.

And just like that, he’s being touched there again - not fingers this time. Blunt pressure, slide, burn and stretch - Dick’s hand lands beside Tim’s, and the muscles of his arm are tense. Tim lets out a short wail and then bites his lip, closes his eyes tight. It doesn’t really hurt - not much, anyway. Not enough to overwhelm the sheer fact that _Dick_ is inching his way _inside him_. It’s enough to take the edge off, though - just a little. It feels so big... even though Tim know Dick isn’t much thicker than he is. The intrusion feels _huge_ , and the slide seems to go on forever, but when Dick reverses the motion Tim doesn’t think he was even all the way in. “It’s good,” he protests, “don’t stop!”

Dick’s breath huffs against his back as he chuckles. “Don’t worry, babe.” He presses back in again, and Tim thinks maybe he goes a little deeper this time. “God, you’re so _tight_.”

“Sorry,” Tim breathes. He drops his head and tries to concentrate on breathing, on relaxing. “I tried to - I use my fingers, sometimes, but if it’s too-”

“Not complaining!” Dick interrupts in a rush, and maybe he slipped a little, because the slow slide is replaced by a small, sharp thrust. “But - unf - you can-” another nudge, a thrust - the sensation is almost unbearable, but Tim tries to stay open to it, tries to press back. “-can absolutely tell me all about those fingers. You can show me...” He pulls back again, and the drag, the friction, is excruciating. Exquisite. Tim loses control of his lungs, and a long moan slips from him before he can bite his lips shut again. “Shit- are you - was that a good sound or a bad sound?”

“Don’t _stop,_ ” Tim hisses again, but Dick pulls back nearly all the way this time. Dick’s lips are soft and damp against his shoulder blade. “I can do this.”

Dick pulls out all the way then. The emptiness is a sudden shock. Tim makes a sound of dismay, but Dick’s hand strokes over his stomach. “Hey.” Another kiss to his back, his spine. “It’s okay, I won’t stop unless you tell me to. But maybe... here. Lay down for me.”

It takes him a moment to catch his breath - a moment longer to process that maybe this isn’t over, maybe he didn’t mess it up by being such a....well, a virgin. He lowers himself to the ground, face hot, and lets himself be arranged, his cheek pillowed on his folded arms, his legs spread. He wanted to be better at this. He hates being bad at things - especially in front of Dick.

The snap of the tube’s cap is loud, with no other sounds around but their breath and dripping water. A moment later, he can feel Dick’s fingers again, around and in his hole, slick and smooth. There’s so much lube this time that Tim can actually feel it on his skin.

And then Dick is over him again, closer this time, braced on his elbow, fingers of his clean hand stroking Tim’s arm, his cheek. It’s better this time, because Tim can see his face. “Real slow, okay?” Dick says, and Tim feels him nudge his hole again. “Don’t let me hurt you. You know I never want to hurt you. If it’s too much, tonight, we can do something else, build up to it.”

“Okay,” Tim says, but mentally he’s bracing himself. Dick’s thumb strokes over his lip, stopping him from biting it. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

It goes easier this time. Tim’s not sure if it’s the extra lube or the prior stretching, but he’s definitely not going to complain. The sensation is still overwhelming, but... in a different way. Not quite pleasure and not quite pain. This is more like the way it felt when he’d done it himself. “Yeah,” Dick breathes against his ear, and Tim shivers. The sound is low and drawn out. “That’s better. I can feel it. See it. You like that?”

Tim can’t really speak, so he nods as he turns his face into his folded arms and fans his legs a little wider. This time Dick gets all the way in before he stops, just lingering there and letting Tim feel him. Adjust. “It’s good,” he finally manages to say. He shifts his hips some, pushing up and back, rubbing his trapped penis against the floor. The waterproof carpet is a little rough, so he snakes his hand under himself and holds on.

“Mmm, love you squirming like that,” Dick says. He lets a little more of his weight onto Tim’s back, and pulls back a few inches before thrusting in again, slow and smooth.

Tim would like to think the further squirming was for Dick’s benefit, but the truth is he honestly can’t help it. “Feels good now,” he breathes. When Dick’s next thrust is a little faster, he bites his arm against the sound that wants to come out. “Oh god. Really good.”

“Yeah,” murmurs Dick, and Tim isn’t sure whether he’s agreeing or saying it because he’s enjoying himself, too. It doesn’t really matter which it is. He can hear the sound of Dick’s breathing, quick, panting breaths. Dick’s pushing in and out with iron control, but he’s enjoying this, too, he’s _feeling_ it, too...the thought makes Tim shudder and a tiny cry escapes him.

“Sound so good... _feel_ so good, Tim. Mmm...love this. Love _you_ , Tim.”

Tim gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his hand around himself reflexively. _He didn’t mean it_ , he thinks, and _He really meant it._ Both are probably true, and again, it doesn’t matter. Especially when Dick’s hand slides down to wrap around Tim’s, his thumb tracing over the tip of Tim’s cock.

“Dick... _Dick!_ ” Tim humps down into the hand around him, unable to help himself, but Dick’s other arm steadies him, the still-slick fingers slipping a bit against his skin.

“It’s all right,” whispers Dick. “I’ve got you.” His thumb slips over the tip again, and his thrusts speed just the tiniest bit, and it’s so incredible, so much...

“Dick!” Tim jerks, his whole body feeling taut and filled as the pleasure pours out of him in powerful waves. He gives in to it, drowns in it, forgetting, for a moment, everything else.

“Fuck.” Dick’s still moving inside him, he realizes moments and an eternity later. Still hard. “That was amazing.” He’s thrusting, but now the thrusts are short, sharp, and less-controlled.

“Dick,” says Tim hoarsely. “So good.” He tightens his muscles, and Dick shouts. Tim can feel his hand tightening on his hip, his rhythm going erratic, then stopping suddenly, buried deep as Dick’s breaths go fast and sharp.

Then there’s slickness, and warmth, and a lessening of the pressure inside him. Dick laughs a little, just a quick, happy chuckle, almost a giggle. Tim feels him shifting inside as he leans over to kiss the back of Tim’s neck. “I want to do this with you again,” says Dick against his skin.

Tim closes his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d opened them. “Any time you want, Dick. I’m yours,” he breathes.

*

When Tim wakes up the next day, he’s got the rugburn from the waterproof carpet of the changing room on his cheek. He’s sticky, and sore, and he really, really needs a shower.

He feels _great_.

Rolling over on his back, he stretches, a long, drawn-out stretch that loosens his muscles and cracks his neck in all the right ways. He can still feel all the places where Dick touched him, _used_ him. He’s tired and sore, but it’s like the feeling after a great workout or a long night on the rooftops. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a long, happy sigh.

Beside him, Dick mumbles and rolls over. Tim’s smile gets even broader. He slips out of the bed - and that twinge just made the smile falter, but it’s to be expected after vigorous and enjoyable sexual activity. He heads for Dick’s bathroom to take care of the other after-effects.

The heat of the shower feels delicious against his skin. He keeps finding little bruises in unexpected places, and they make him smile. There’s a hickey on his left hip, just below the bone. He strokes a thumb over it as he washes, and hopes it lasts for a few days.

There’s a bit of burn in his calves, so he puts his hands against the wall and stretches, enjoying the water on the back of his neck. His muscles there are a little strained, too - and even that makes Tim smile, because he’d _earned_ that burn delivering his very first blowjob, after Dick had dragged him up the stairs to bed.

When he gets out of the shower, he’s going to try for his second. He can’t think of a better way to wake Dick up for round three.

He stands up and reaches for the shampoo, and a wave of dizziness hits. Tim drops the bottle, puts his hand to his head, and leans heavily on the wall. They never ate after patrol last night - didn’t even stop to rehydrate. Maybe he should wake Dick up with breakfast in bed, instead. Juice, at least.

He’s still making plans when he realizes he’s tilting, his soapy shoulder slipping against the wet tiles. Tim has just enough time to gasp and shoot an arm out for the shower curtain before Dick’s arm catches him around the ribs and hauls him up.

“Whoa, easy there...” Dick says. He helps Tim out of the shower to sit down on the closed toilet, and turns on the ceiling fan before getting him a cup of water from the sink and crouching in front of him, still perfectly, gloriously, beautifully naked. “You okay?”

Tim smiles at him between sips. “Just tired. I was planning on getting back into bed with you, but maybe we should eat first. For _some_ reason, I’m kind of exhausted this morning.”

Dick beams. “Some reason, huh?” His chuckle is warm, a little dirty. It makes Tim shiver. “I remember... after Kory and I hooked up the first time, I was stumbling around for _days_. Roy mocked me so hard.”

Tim kind of hopes it doesn’t take *that* long to recover, but even if it does, it was worth it. He’s a little puzzled, though. It makes sense he’d be out of it - his blood sugar’s low, he’s probably dehydrated, and he engaged in vigorous physical activity the previous night (and before the sex, there was patrol). But why would it take so long for Dick to...

Oh, right. _Kory_. _Super_ powered supermodel. And she probably didn’t even give Dick much time to rest between rounds, either, if the rumors were true.

“I’ll be all right once I’ve had some food,” says Tim. “And coffee. _Lots_ of coffee.”

And maybe another blow job.

*

There doesn’t seem to be enough time in the week. Tim has school, and homework, and then he crawls into bed - and usually that would mean a few hours of nap in his own bed, before he heads out on patrol, but mostly, lately, that means a visit to the manor or a train out to Bludhaven, depending on where he and Dick agree to meet. Then it’s off to patrol, ignoring Bruce’s uncomfortable silence with great relief, and finally home to snag a few hours of sleep - assuming he and Dick don’t wind up on the floor of the locker room again. Or a convenient roof-top. Or Tim’s parent’s couch. Or the stairs to the East wing.

Tim’s feeling a little worse for wear for all of it - especially the adventure on the stairs - but if he couldn’t say no _before_ , how is he supposed to resist now? It’s like...Dick has woken something up inside him. He didn’t know what he was missing, before - could only imagine what it would feel like. To connect with another person that way, to take pleasure - give it - _share_ it, with someone he cares about...

Tim’s really never been happier.

Which is why, for maybe the first time in his life, Tim is reluctant to leave Gotham for the weekend. He’s sitting, sprawled across Dick’s lap, with Dick’s hand in his tights, and wishing he didn’t have to leave. But it’s not like he could call in to the Titans on account of sex, could he? It sounds like something Kon would have done, back in the old days, before he’d grown up a bit and filled out a _lot._

A _lot_. And it’s not the first time Tim has wondered just how much his friend may have grown in other areas, but it’s definitely the most inappropriate timing. He bites his lip and gasps, his head knocking against the arm of the couch, and thrusts up into Dick’s grasp. “I need an emergency.”

Dick’s hand slows down, and Tim makes a noise of distress and yanks on his wrist, encouraging him. He plants his heel on the couch and rocks back and forth on Dick’s lap, rubbing against his erection. “An emergency?”

“I want to spend the weekend with you,” Tim pants. He groans as Dick’s rhythm picks up again, and buries his face against Dick’s arm. “If I go out to San Francisco-”

“If you go out to San Francisco, I’ll be right here when you get back,” Dick assures him. He squeezes a little harder and strokes his thumb over the crown of Tim’s erection. “I remember what it was like. Being with your friends, your team... that’s a safety valve. It lets so much pressure off.”

Tim thinks to himself that Dick is doing a pretty good job of that, but he doesn’t manage to say it because he’s moaning his way through an orgasm. When the sparks and shivers pass, he holds on to Dick’s neck, planting quick, open-mouthed kisses all along his jaw. “Will you miss me?”

“Mmm,” Dick says, tapping Tim’s lips with a sticky finger. “Definitely. But you know I’d never forgive myself if I got between you and your friends. Go. Have a good time.” He presses his mouth against Tim’s ear, breathing heavy as Tim sucks his fingers clean. “Come home and tell me all about it.”

*

Later, he’s at the coffeeshop grabbing his usual before he jumps in the batwing. The girl behind the counter smiles at him. She always smiles at him, and he always smiles back, so it really shouldn’t seem so...momentous when she does. But Tim finds himself visually tracing over the curve of her ear, noticing the way her ebony hair trails down her neck, and the way her dark, almond-shaped eyes seem to sparkle at him. As he takes the cup from her, she giggles and blushes a little, and her fingers brush the back of his. She leans forward conspiratorially. “I gave you my employee discount,” she whispers, “because you’re such a great customer.” And then she winks at him.

Tim realizes he’s somehow not flustered at all. Who knew that having sex could change so much? “Thank you,” he says sincerely, smiling back at her. “That’s really nice of you.” He drops some money in the tip jar, far more than the amount of the discount she just gave him, and turns to go.

_I could get her phone number_. The thought startles him a little. _She would totally give it to me if I asked._

The next thought startles him so much that he almost runs into the door.

_She would probably have *sex* with me._

It’s not that Tim’s never thought about other people in a sexual context before. It’s just that...he’s not used to thinking about it _seriously_.

He’s been coming to this particular coffeeshop for almost a year, now. Valerie’s been working there at least that long. They don’t have heart-to-heart talks or anything, but he’s deduced that she’s a student, working her way through school, that she plays violin as a hobby, and that she’s majoring in medieval literature. He’s always found her kind of attractive, but he’s never really seriously considered having sex with her.

And she’s never given him a discount before.

Was it just that she noticed him checking her out and responded? He gets plenty of giggling and flirting from sycophants that want to make a connection with ‘Timothy Wayne’, but somehow this felt more...real than that.

He glances at his watch and his eyes widen as he forgets all about Valerie. He’s going to be late if he doesn’t hurry, and then the others will give him a hard time.


	2. Chapter 2

 

He manages to not be the last one to the Tower for the weekend, but only because Kon is late again. Apparently Tim didn’t mock him hard enough for the last detention. He’ll have to try to be more scathing.  
  
Cassie’s out front with Vic when he arrives, watching and chatting as he does something to the biometric scanner by the door. She waves at Tim cheerfully, but Vic is obviously engrossed in what he’s doing and pays no attention as Tim approaches. “Upgrade or malfunction?” Tim asks when he reaches them.  
  
“Bit of both,” Vic says over his shoulder. “Tell you in a minute.” Two of his fingers have been replaced by fine grasping tools, and there’s a soldering iron in his other hand.  
  
“Hi, Tim. Have a good week?”  Cassie slides up beside him and gives him a one-armed squeeze - he usually gets a hug from her at the start and the end of the weekend. Tim squeezes back. He’s always admired the way she can be so tough and look so soft at the same time, and the way she feels against him reflects that - hard muscle under a layer of yielding curves. He turns and gives her a full hug, his hands on her back, just enjoying the sensation. Her hair always smells nice.  
  
“Very good,” he tells her, smiling wickedly over her shoulder, where she can’t see it and call him on it. “I had....a _fantastic_ week.”  
  
“Someone’s cheerful!” Cassie pulls back and beams at him, and then leans close again, sniffing him. “Are you wearing cologne? _In costume?_ ”  
  
“What?” Tim chuckles and rubs her shoulder before straightening up. “Of course not.” He sniffs himself, feeling self-conscious, but can’t smell anything. “Maybe it’s my hair gel?”  
  
Cassie rolls her eyes. “I know what your product smells like. You use enough of it. No, it’s something else... New deodorant?”  
  
He used Dick’s shampoo this morning. Slept in Dick’s sheets last night - Dick’s bed always smells so good to him. That’s it, he decides, and wants to laugh. He smells like _Dick_. “I’m trying a new shampoo.” He’ll have to tell Dick when he gets back. ‘Apparently, you smell,’ sounds like a good opener.  
  
“That must be it.” Cassie smiles at him, and for a moment Tim feels a little dazzled. Her hair is so blond, and her teeth are so white, and her skin seems to glow a little in the sunlight. He’s always known Cassie was pretty, even when she tried to hide it with goggles and an awful wig, but it doesn’t usually hit him like this.  
  
All the sex seems to have jarred his brain over into a different gear. He doesn’t _plan_ to do it, but a moment later he can see his fingers in Cassie’s hair, twining around a curl. “You got a haircut.”  
  
Unaccountably, Cassie blushes. Tim’s only seen her do it a few times - always when Kon was involved - and the sight of it makes him smile. It’s such a … a _sweet_ reaction, from such a cool and competent - and _beautiful -_ young woman. “Oh, just a little trim. I didn’t expect anyone would notice.”  
  
“I notice everything,” Tim tells her.  After all, he’s trained to pick up on minute details of his surroundings, remember tiny changes in a person’s appearance and behavior. It’s a simple statement, and mostly true, but it makes Cassie’s eyes flash, suddenly, and for a moment, Tim thinks she’s about to kiss him.  
  
So of course that’s when Kon drops out of the sky, boots hitting the pavement with a loud thud. He must have been going very fast on the descent. “Dude,” he says from beside Tim, well into his personal space. “Am I interrupting something?”  
  
It takes Tim a moment to process what this probably looks like. Cassie is _bright_ pink, now.  He lifts his hand from her waist and withdraws the other one from her hair. “We were talking about hair care.” When Tim turns, Kon doesn’t look like he believes him. Tim smiles at him. “Don’t you love her new haircut?”  
  
That does the trick. Kon falls over himself to compliment Cassie and assure her he’d noticed, and Tim makes his escape, retreating to the comforting shelter of Vic’s calm presence and, hopefully, a nice conversation about something simple, like steganography or computational complexity theory.  
  
This time, when he approaches, Vic looks up. He tilts his head with a slight frown. “Did you change your uniform?”  
  
*  
  
“Tim!  Tim!  Hey, Tim!”    
  
Tim closes his laptop and smiles a little.  Normally Bart demanding his attention in the middle of a mission write-up would be cause for frustration at the least.  Tim’s still flying pretty high after a full week of _Dick,_ though, and relaxed from his post-mission shower, so today Bart’s exuberance seems charming, rather than exasperating.  “What is it, Bart?”  
  
“I found this at the mission site!”  Bart hands him a small, white sphere, about four centimeters in diameter.  Tim frowns and takes it to examine it more closely.  As he handles it, a small, square window opens in the side, and there’s what looks like a lens-  
  
He hands it back to Bart.  “Take this to the middle of the bay, far from any ships, drop it, and come back as quickly as you can,” he says sharply.  Bart’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop to question, just takes the sphere, disappears, and returns a second later.  Just a few more seconds after that, there’s a booming sound in the distance.  Tim breathes again.  
  
“What was that?” Bart gasps.  
  
“A camera,” says Tim, “with a self-destruct function.”  He swallows hard, his heart still in his throat, then taps his communicator.  
  
“Superboy,” he says.  
  
“Hey, Rob, there were some-”  
  
“Explosions?”  
  
“...how did you know?”  
  
“I’ll explain later.  Was anyone hurt?”  
  
“No.  There were three of them, all scattered around the mission site, but the area was still being kept clear of civilians.  It’s going to take a while to clean up the mess, though.”  
  
“Understood.  Need any help?”  
  
“Nah, I know you’re itching to finish the write-up.  Me and Wonder Girl got this one.”  
  
Tim resists the urge to correct his grammar and sighs a little with relief.  “Okay.  Call me when you’re done.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
“Robin out.”  
  
He turns back to Bart, who’s just...standing there, staring at him.  And has been for the last minute and a half.  Tim frowns.  “Are you okay, Bart?”  
  
Bart blinks.  “Wha-?  Oh, yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
Tim takes another breath, willing his heart to slow down.  Bart’s all right.  Everyone else is all right.  There’s no need for him to have such a strong reaction to this.  “Next time we have an operation, your first priority is to scout the area and get rid of any of those that you find, okay?”  
  
A grin spreads across Bart’s face.  “I can do that!  Should I go now and see if I can find any more?”  He’s poised, ready to take off at a word from Tim, so Tim reaches out and grabs his wrist.  
  
“No.  They all self-destructed when you found the first,” he says with certainty.  “I’m pretty sure I know who’s doing this now, and how we can catch him.  I’ll write up a briefing for you tomorrow morning.”  He knows how much Bart hates to sit through meetings.  
  
“Thanks, Tim.”  He’s still beaming, his amber eyes gleaming.  Tim’s always liked Bart’s eyes. He’s never met another human being with eyes quite that color, like the sparks that sometimes crackle off of Kid Flash’s boots when he skids to a halt.  
  
He really is Kid Flash, now, Tim thinks. He’s grown up so much since their Young Justice days. He feels like it happened without his noticing, somehow. One day, he and Kon were arguing over how to parent a scrawny, hyperactive kid - and then Tim blinked.  
  
And suddenly - everything is sudden with Bart, so it shouldn’t have been such a _surprise_ \- his friend wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was learning, paying attention to things that would have bored Impulse to tears. Taking his time with things, thinking them through before acting.  He’d grown physically, too, shooting up in a burst that honestly left Tim kind of _envious_ and drinking even more protein shakes. His eyes wander down Bart’s body - he’s still lean and rangy, but there’s muscle there that wasn’t so apparent before. Instead of looking like a starved and manic child, he’s. Well... attractive. Fit. He’s really got _fantastic_ legs. Tim remembers a crack Dick made once about guys with big feet and jerks his eyes back up again.  
  
“You did a good job,” says Tim, and watches Bart _blush_.  It happens all at once, his entire face turning red without preliminaries, then going back to its normal color almost as quickly.  Abruptly, Tim realizes he’s still holding Bart’s wrist.  There’s a flicker on Bart’s throat - he’s swallowing, Tim thinks.  
  
“Tim, is it okay if I-” Bart stops, stills.  
  
“What?” says Tim softly after several seconds have passed. Bart’s never this hesitant.  “What is it, Bart?”  
  
“I just.”  Bart just *stops* again, and without thinking, Tim squeezes his wrist.  There’s a small sound, and the words, “‘kissesareabetterfatethanwisdom-’” and then he kisses Tim, light and quick and warm, and his arm is vibrating, _trembling_ in Tim’s hand.    
  
It happens so fast, between one blink and another, but Tim knows he didn’t imagine it.  “Bart,” he whispers, suddenly hoarse.  Suddenly aware how _alone_ they are in the Tower.  Cyborg and Beast Boy are away on a mission, Starfire’s visiting the Outsiders, and Kon and Cassie are doing mission clean-up.  It’s just them.  Just the two of them.  
  
Tim should pull away, he thinks.  He should let go, and allow Bart to run away as he so clearly wants to do.  He _should_ do those things, but they’re not what he _wants_ to do.  
  
What he wants is to tug Bart closer, making him stumble forward so that Tim can wrap his other hand around the back of Bart’s neck and pull him into a _real_ kiss.    
  
Bart tastes like fruit punch, which seems so appropriate that Tim can’t help but smile against his mouth, his tongue flickering out again to trace over Bart’s lips.  There’s a sharp little breath of air as Bart gasps.  Then his tongue is darting into Tim’s mouth, quick, slippery little touches that are really a _tease_.  Tim groans, his hold tightening.  “Bart,” he says again, into Bart’s mouth.  
  
“Tim, Tim, I, is this okay?”  
  
Tim makes himself stop, but he can’t quite make himself let go.  As far as he knows, Bart is a virgin.  Of course, _Tim_ was a virgin until a few days ago, too.  It’s not really a deterrent.  Nor is the thought of Dick.  Tim remembers his smile, his _warmth_ , and the implicit blessing he gave Tim before sending him to the Tower.  He knows Dick won’t mind, knows it viscerally, just like he knows that he’ll be going _back_ to Dick when the weekend is over.  
  
He carefully doesn’t kiss Bart again.  “Is it okay with you?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah,” says Bart.  “I mean, I’ve always been kind of attracted to you, but it was always, I dunno, the draw of the unattainable?  I guess?  ‘cause you always seemed like you didn’t *want* that, or not from me, anyway.”  
  
Tim frowns.  “I - I do find you attractive, Bart.  I guess I’ve been thinking of you as a kid for too long.”  He can’t help but slide the hand from the back of Bart’s neck and tangle it in his soft, soft hair.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel...” he hesitates over the word, “...unwanted.”  
  
Bart shrugs, a surprisingly adult smile lighting his features for a moment.  “Hey, I _was_ a little kid until not too long ago.”  
  
“But not now.”  Tim scrutinizes him.    
  
“No,” says Bart.  He’s watching Tim closely.  The smile flickers across his face again, lightning-quick, and then he’s serious again.  “Neither are you.”  
  
“No,” agrees Tim.  He lets go of Bart’s wrist and lifts his hand to rest on Bart’s chest.  “Bart, I...I can’t promise that-”  
  
Bart covers his hand with his own.  “Look, I get it, okay?  You’re not swearing eternal devotion to me, you’re just attracted to me.  Right?”  A flash of uncertainty crosses his face with the final word.  
  
Tim swallows hard.  Leave it to Bart to cut to the quick of the matter.  “Yeah,” he says, then clears his throat.  
  
“Well, that works out pretty well for me, since I just want to have sex with you right now,” says Bart cheerfully.    
  
Tim realizes he’s nodding too much and makes himself stop.  “Um,” he tries.  “Good.”  He scrambles a little to regain control of the situation.  “How much do you know about the physical, um-”  
  
Bart cracks up, his whole body moving with his laughter.  “Tim, I’ve read a _library_.  The _entire_ library.  All of the romance novels, all of the texts on physiology and human sexuality, all of the _gay interest_ section, all of the stuff on kinks and bondage, all of- well, let’s just say that I had to take a _lot_ of breaks while I was reading to go and masturbate.”  
  
Tim gasps.  The _image_ of that alone is enough to send the blood rushing between his legs.  “Show me,” he hears himself say, and it’s Bart’s turn to suck in air.    
  
“Show you how I-”  
  
“Yes,” says Tim, his voice low and hoarse.  If Bart hesitates, Tim can’t tell.  Bart moves too fast for it to be a tease, his hand darting to his button, zipper, and then his pants are around his ankles.  “No underwear...?” Tim manages to croak out, his brain short-circuiting.  
  
Bart shrugs and smiles self-consciously.  “They just get in the way when I want to run,” he says.  His hand flutters a little, as if he’s not quite sure whether this is okay, so Tim grabs it and guides it lower.    
  
“You’re not circumcised,” notes Tim.  
  
Making a face, Bart shakes his head.  “They’re going to stop doing that in another few decades.  You don’t mind, do you?”  
  
“Mind?  No!”  Dick’s not circumcised, either, Tim thinks, but it’s so different. Dick’s body is a work of art, carefully sculpted. The body of a man in the prime of his life. Bart’s gangling thinness makes him look unfinished - puppyish, still growing into his hands and feet.  
  
Bart kisses completely differently from the way Dick does, moves differently, sounds different.  Tim wants to _feel_ how different he is, so he rests his hand over Bart’s.  “Show me,” he says again.  “You’d be going along, reading something sexy, and you’d get so turned on that you *had* to stop and take care of it.”  
  
Bart takes a quick, shuddering breath and squeezes himself.  One moment his eyes are open, then next they’re closed, and his hand is _moving_ , sharp, fast jerks that Tim can barely keep up with.  His eyes are darting back and forth behind their closed lids.  He’s _reading_ , Tim realizes, calling to mind his favorite parts.    
  
It’s really, really hot. “What are you thinking about?” Tim asks, feeling his own breath get short and shallow. Bart comes to full hardness in all of a second or two, pink head revealed as his foreskin slides back and forth.    
  
“I I can’t-” Bart’s tongue sweeps over his lips, so fast that Tim almost misses it.  “Tim-Tim-I-”  His eyes close, then open again, and he’s *staring* at Tim as his hand moves faster and faster, until Tim has to pull his fingers back, until it’s too fast to *see*.  Tim watches the blur, but his eyes are pulled irresistibly back to Bart’s face.  
  
His face looks like a film on fast forward, grimacing, lips pressing together, then coming apart in an “O”, and all at once his head flies back and he stills completely for about two seconds.  Tim’s eyes sweep downward, to where Bart’s spilling over his own hand.  
  
Bart’s eyes are open, watching him.  There’s still uncertainty there.  “Tim?”  
  
Tim doesn’t answer.  Instead he presses forward and wraps an arm around Bart’s shoulders, pulling him into another hungry kiss.  His other hand reaches down for Bart’s sticky one.  Tim slides his fingers through Bart’s.  
  
“Tim, _Tim_ ,” Bart is whispering against his mouth, over and over again.  “Yes yes yes-”  
  
“Bed,” says Tim.  “Now.”  
  
There’s a break in the kiss and a rush of air so intense it makes his eyes sting and water. He’s on his back on something soft, weight on stomach, and Bart is kissing him again before Tim can blink his eyes clear again. Yellow wall... Bart’s room, then. He laughs quietly around Bart’s quick, slick tongue and tries to catch Bart’s head in his hands, to slow the kiss, or control it somehow. His fingertips brush Bart’s hair, but before he can tighten his hold, Bart has moved again, darting down to lick and suck at every inch of Tim’s throat.  
  
Tim tries for an easier target instead, dragging his fingertips down Bart’s bare sides until he can cup the bony points of Bart’s hips in his palms. Bart is moving shallowly against him, completely naked, his clothes vanished somewhere in the whirlwind that brought them here. Tim has to struggle up a few inches before he can really see him.  
  
His back is long and narrow, the bumps of his spine and ridges of his ribs stark under a layer of wiry muscle. Tim moves his hands over skin made golden by the afternoon sunlight. “You’re beautiful.”  
  
Bart laughs and sits up to look at him. “I was going to say the same thing but I didn’t want you to think I thought you looked like a girl. This century’s so weird about stuff like that.”  
  
Tim tsks. “You should know me better by now.”  
  
Bart beams at that. “But we’ve never been naked in bed together before. That means new rules, doesn’t it?”  
  
Tim used to think it would have to mean exactly that, but Dick’s taught him otherwise over the last week. “You’re still my friend, aren’t you?”  
  
“Duh, dude,” Bart says, in a passable imitation of Kon, and then he laughs again and plasters himself against Tim’s body. “Okay. Good. So the new naked-together rules only apply to new naked-together things, right? Like this?” He bites Tim’s ear.  
  
Tim laughs and moves his body against him. “Definitely.” Bart’s breath quickens, so he repeats the movement, and again when he earns a moan. “Feel good?”  
  
“Reallygood,” is the gasped response. Tim arches again, his hands coming to rest on Bart’s hips, guiding his movements. It’s a slow grind, at first, but within a minute Bart speeds up, half-suffocating Tim in a rain of fast, flickering kisses. Tim is overwhelmed by the onslaught, and caught unprepared when Bart goes still again, body rigid, leaving Tim gasping for breath as he feels the heat spread between them.  
  
“S-sorry!” Bart gasps as he pushes himself up on suddenly weak arms. His thighs are twitching and shuddering like a horse after a race. Tim massages the muscles there with his thumbs, smiling up at Bart gently as he catches his breath.  
  
“It's okay,” he says. When the spasms calm, he drags the fingers of one hand through the mess on his stomach and touches his tongue to their tips. Bart watches the motion with eyes and mouth open wide. “I thought it was hot. That’s twice, though... Do you think you can come again?”  
  
“Well, yeah.” Bart says, as if the question were slightly stupid. His mouth twitches a moment later as he finds the humor, but his eyes go glassy again when Tim wraps that sticky hand around him. He's hot against Tim's palm, and it only takes half-a-minute or so before he's getting hard again and writhing into Tim's grip, moving enticingly in Tim's lap. “But I haven't done anything for you, yet!”  
  
Tim sits up enough to kiss him lightly. “You're doing plenty. God, I love the way you move... I could just make you come over and over, all night...”  
  
Bart whimpers and bucks harder, faster. His hands scrabble over Tim's chest, pinching his nipples, massaging his pecs. “I want to make you feel good, too, though.” He whines high in his throat and his whole body goes still, rigidly controlled, humming with suppressed energy. He grips Tim's wrist in a strong hand and pulls Tim's hand away from his erection. “Here...” He brings the hand around his body to rest on the curve of his ass. “Ihavelube. If you want to. Do you want to? Pleasewanto?”  
  
Fuck, yes. Tim slides his fingers into Bart's cleft – it's so _hot_ there, between the strong, round muscles of his ass. He strokes, pressing hard behind Bart's balls, and then rubbing in tight, firm circles when he finds Bart's hole.  
  
“Ohgod,” Bart blurts, and then he's gone. Back again and _slick_ now, straddling Tim's body, pressing back against his hand. “Doitdoit.”  
  
Tim's finger slides in easily. The second is a bit more difficult – Bart's preparations had been done in haste. He presses in slowly, ring and middle fingers pressed tightly together, opening him further, and Bart cries out, half-collapsing onto his hands, his weight born on closed fists on either sides of Tim's chest. His whole body is shaking violently now, enough to rattle Tim's teeth. “Ohgod, soslow. Tim. TimTimTimTim...” on and on, and then a low groan, just as Tim finishes the slow thrust, and a hot splash against Tim's stomach, again. “Ohfuck.” He falls to his elbows, forehead pressed to Tim's chest.  
  
“Good?” Tim asks. He crooks his fingers.  
  
“Y-yes.”  
  
Tim reverses the movement, drawing the fingers slowly out, slightly spread. Bart clenches and shakes around him, body hot and hungry. When all that's left inside Bart's body are the very tips of his fingers, he thrusts in again, faster this time, and rougher.  
  
Bart gasps and bites Tim's collarbone. On the next thrust, he presses back. He sits up, palms trailing down Tim's chest, fingernails scratching lightly, and slides back, until Tim's straining erection springs up just below his own. “Don't move.” He picks up the bottle of lubricant and coats them both liberally, his hand sliding over Tim's cock in a flicker of slick speed. He shifts, blurring, and then he’s crouched over Tim, knees on either side of Tim’s hips, holding Tim in his hand and pressing back. “I’ll go as slow as I can, but I don’t want to hurt you if we both move at the same time.”  
  
Tim fists his hands in the blanket as Bart sinks down. He feels so tight - as if Tim hadn’t just had his fingers inside him. “God, Bart...”  
  
Bart’s eyes are closed in concentration, and if he even hears Tim, he’s not showing it. He sinks down, mouth opening, wide but silent, until his cheeks are resting against Tim’s raised thighs. There’s a pause, a second, or maybe two. Tim can feel the thrum of Bart’s body, the hummingbird flutter of his pulse, the muscles inside him clenching and relaxing, bit by bit.  
  
Finally, something seems to give, and Bart starts moving again. He rises up and sinks down again, the motion startling in its sudden speed. “Youfeelsobig.” Tim gasps and grips his hips, fingers digging into tight muscle. Again, and again - Tim has to fight to hold still, because Bart is right - the speed that Bart is moving with could result in some rather unpleasant sensations if he slipped out at just the wrong moment.  
  
He wraps a loose hand around Bart’s slick cock, instead, letting Bart’s motions drive him through the circle of Tim’s fingers. Bart is moving faster now, and the fast, sucking drag of his body around Tim’s cock, slick and tight, is pulling Tim closer and closer to the edge. It’s never felt like this. Even when Dick had ridden him, Tim had still had a bit of control over his motion, guiding his speed and angle with hands on his hips and ass. All he can do now is hold on as Bart moves over him.  
  
He can feel himself getting closer, and tightens his grip around Bart’s erection. He watches Bart’s face, sees him bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut tight a mere fraction of a second before his body stills. Bart’s cock twitches hard, and he spills over Tim’s hand again with a whimper that sounds weak and thin. He tries to get his rhythm back, but when Tim drags his thumb over the head of his cock, he shudders to a stop again and bats his hand away.  
  
“Toomuch,” he gasps. “Ineed-” There’s a pause of several full seconds while he catches his breath. Tim can’t help the motion of his hips in the meantime, his climb toward orgasm interrupted. He thrusts up, finally, and if feels so good after holding back that he does it again, and again, harder, so that Bart bounces and cries out. “It’stoomuch-”  
  
“Just one more,” Tim says. He pulls out and runs his fingers through Bart’s hair, over his cheek, letting him rest for a few moments. When Bart whimpers and turns into the touch, it’s Tim’s turn to move _him,_ rolling them both over and pressing Bart’s knees up to his chest as he sinks in deep. In the few seconds the maneuver took, Bart’s body has already started to recover, and it’s almost like thrusting into him for the first time again. Tim holds him there and fucks him, moving as fast as he can, but still he knows it’s tortuously slow for Bart, each thrust unbearably long and deep - a neverending fuck.  
  
“Ahhh,” Bart cries, head thrown back. For the shout to sound as long as it does for Tim, it must have gone on for a subjective eternity. “Tim! Timyou’rekillingmeohgod.” The sounds go on, spilling out of his mouth, but Tim can’t understand him anymore.  
  
Faster, then. As fast as he can make it, until his legs are shaking and his arms weak. Bart is clenching and relaxing around him, shuddering all over, his whole body moving under him, writhing, his hands clutching at the blankets, his skin, Tim’s skin, his own hair. He’s so hot inside, so _sweet,_ and _tight_ and _good_.  
  
He comes again, just before Tim’s own orgasm takes him, his cock rising from his stomach and twitching hard, untouched, and shooting over his thin chest, his quivering stomach. The keening sound he makes seems to go on and on, rising in pitch, until Tim finally collapses forward, gasping and shuddering, moving deep inside him in a few final thrusts.  
  
He spills into Bart’s hungry body, biting at his shoulder to stifle his shout. It feels as good as the first time, somehow - as good as it had felt to be face-down on the locker room floor with Dick moving inside him. Light bursts behind his eyelids like an epiphany.  Dick was right... the way it feels to share this with a friend, someone he loves and trusts with all his heart...  
  
And so different... So unlike Dick, in every way.  Is it just that Bart is so very different, more alien in some ways than most of the actual aliens that Tim knows? Would it be this good with the other people he cares about? With Steph and Cass and Kon and Cassie, with _Bruce_ , even - or Barbara. Connor. Helena. Ted. All the people he cares about and admires.    
  
He comes down off the high of orgasm, breathing hard, and kisses Bart hard, sucking on his tongue. Bart is oddly unresponsive, and Tim pulls back to ask if he’s okay - but no, Bart’s just asleep already. Tim laughs and kisses the slight tear-tracks from his temples, then lays down beside him.  
  
Sex makes him stupid, apparently. What was all that he’d been thinking a moment ago, about seducing everyone he knows? Dick hadn’t warned him about this part, but Tim’s coming to recognize the feeling - as exhausted as he is, he feels powerful right now, like a being made for pleasure. Like he could do anything. Like there’s room in his heart for everything and everyone. The whole world.  
  
It feels good

*


	3. Chapter 3

Bart sleeps like a child, spread over the maximum available surface area, his arms and legs flung wide, pinning Tim lightly to the bed. His skin seems even hotter in sleep than it is when he's awake. It's endearing, but also uncomfortable, and so Tim carefully wriggles his way free, kisses his slack lips once and heads for the showers.

Tim keeps the water cool. He feels slightly drugged from Bart's heat, and the long nap after good sex. The water makes him feel a bit more human again. He brushes his teeth and drinks a glass of water that makes him suddenly realize how ravenously hungry he is. It's good hunger – earned hunger. They'd raided Bart's stash of energy bars some time between round two and round three, but Tim's stomach is crying out for real food, now.

He chuckles and walks down the hall to his own room, towel around his waist and hair still dripping onto his shoulders. There had been a time when Tim wouldn't have stepped out of his room in Happy Harbor without his mask on, let alone without pants. The thought makes him shake his head. It's hard to remember that there was a time when he didn't trust the people who are now his closest friends.

He dresses in cotton pajama pants, forgoing a shirt. His skin still feels too hot, and slightly prickly. Anxious. No one else will be awake, anyway, unless maybe Starfire's back – but no, they hadn't called her back, so she was probably still in New York. The picture that calls to his mind is vivid, and makes his skin flush even warmer – Dick, his mouth open in passion, his gorgeous body tangled up in strong, golden limbs and a waterfall of living, curling hair – Kory's eyes glowing faintly in the dark, narrowed and catlike, predatory, her lush lips and white teeth...

Tim shakes himself and laughs at his sudden erection. “Haven't you had enough?” he asks, looking down. The thought lingers, though... He knows Dick would be up for a threesome. He's not sure about Kory, but he's heard stories – several from Dick himself, in fact. It's something to think about for later.

For now, he does a few quick stretches to rid himself of the slight soreness in his neck and shoulders, and helps himself to two of the oatmeal cookies Alfred had packed with Robin's gear. After a moment’s thought, he crosses the hall and leaves the tin with rest of them on the pillow beside Bart's head before heading down to the kitchen.

It’s dark and quiet in the common spaces. Tim likes the Tower best this way, when he can see the lights of the city across the water, so he only turns on the small, dim light over the stove, to keep from spoiling the view. There’s something slightly anxious thrumming under his skin, demanding movement, and he paces around the kitchen while he thinks about what he wants to eat, opening and closing cabinets and pantry doors, finally coming to a stop in front of the open refrigerator and just staring, half-blinded by the sudden brightness spilling from it.

One of Bart’s giant ten-tiered sandwiches would really hit the spot right now. Tim finds some leftover chicken breast, some sliced ham - the good stuff, from that deli Vic likes - lettuce, tomatoes, half a purple onion, two kinds of cheese, the good mustard, pickles... When he has to catch the pickle jar before it falls off the island, he realizes he’s probably got enough stuff. Bread from the bread box - good San Francisco sourdough, already sliced - which he drops into the toaster.

The door to the fridge shuts, and Tim looks up from his hunt for a knife, startled. Kon’s looking at him with amusement. “Dude... You feeding an army?”

Tim feels his lips quirk. “Maybe. Sandwiches. You want one?”

Kon seems to consider that for longer than the question merits. “Sure,” he finally says. “No pickles, though.”

Tim nods and goes to get plates. Starfire is the one who set up the kitchen, so he has to stand on tip-toes to reach them. Not for the first time, he curses the day he decided to go into a line of work where everyone else is so _tall._ When he rocks back onto his heels, the back of his arm brushes Kon’s shoulder, which is the first he realizes that the other boy is hovering - literally - so close. Well, that explains why Tim hadn’t heard him come in, at least. “Aren’t you tall _enough_?”

“What? Oh.” Kon drops about three inches, until his feet are on the slate tile floor. “Sorry. I was out flying when I saw you turn the light on. Guess I forgot.”

He looks distracted, as if something big is weighing on his mind. Tim’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be the one to bring up the big evil L-word, so he decides to wait. If Kon wants to talk, he’ll build up to it eventually. “I hope Conner Kent isn’t as forgetful.”

“Oh come on, give me some credit. I just flew in the window.” Kon laughs softly, but it sounds forced. He follows as Tim rounds the kitchen island, staying close. So, definitely Luthor, then. Tim shakes his head slightly as he gets out a cutting board and takes a few thin slices off the onion.

Kon doesn’t speak before the toast pops up, so Tim shoots him a look with one eyebrow half-raised before he turns and goes to get it. “You know we’re the only ones up, right?”

Kon follows again, looking, if possible, even more awkward. “Cassie’s still awake.”

She is? “Kind of late for her, isn’t it? She’s more of a morning person.”

“Well, we were talking. Um. We’ve been talking.” He’s _right there_ , as Tim spreads mustard on the bread. He’s wearing too much body spray. “About earlier.”

Tim frowns and starts assembling the sandwiches. “The mission? Did anything else come up after Bart and I left?”

“What?” Kon looks genuinely confused as he follows Tim to the table. “Oh, no. We just helped clear out the rubble after those explosions. I straightened out the tracks and Cassie got the trolley lines back up.” He sits down next to Tim and pulls his plate closer, picking up a sandwich half. “Thanks, man.”

“Just as easy to make two.” Maybe he finally told someone else about the email? Ferreting out what’s going on would take too much effort that he could be devoting to his sandwich. Kon can get there in his own time. Kon’s just sort of sitting there watching him, though, with only two bites missing from his sandwich. “What?”

“Never seen you eat like that.”

Tim laughs. “Too hungry for table manners. I missed supper. Lunch, too, kind of.”

Kon nods seriously. “Yeah, you did. Where were you? You weren’t in your room - or if you were, you weren’t answering the door-com.”

“With Bart.”

Kon blinks, and then smiles. “Good. You both need more hang-out time. Can’t believe he didn’t make you stop whatever you were doing for food, though.”

“Oh, we had energy bars. Not the same, though.” He’s almost done with his sandwich. He eats the thick, chewy crust and thinks about a second one, or at least some fruit. Maybe ice cream. Fruit and ice cream? Do they even have ice cream? “He’s hard to keep up with.”

Kon laughs and shakes his head. “Understatement of the century.” He seems to have abandoned his sandwich half-finished. At Tim’s questioning look, he slides it over toward him. “Anyway, I was talking to Cassie...”

Tim nods while he chews. He’s not hungry enough anymore to talk with his mouth full.

“...about earlier.” Kon finishes, lamely.

“You said that.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He finishes Kon’s sandwich and wipes his hands on a napkin, licking mustard from his lips. When he looks up, Kon is staring at his mouth. That can’t mean what Tim thinks it means - he’s just got sex on the brain. He licks his lips again, purely as a scientific experiment, and Kon’s mouth parts slightly.

Maybe he still has mustard? Tim dabs at his mouth with the napkin and takes a drink of his Zesti. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, and then Kon’s eyes dart up to his. He sits up a bit straighter, looking like he’s just pulled himself out of a light sleep. “That’s what we were talking about.”

Tim is completely lost. “What?”

“We were talking about...me being okay. With. Uh. Earlier.”

“...earlier?”

“When I got here.” After the tortuous pace of his last sentence, this one comes out all in a rush. “You and Cassie. Hair care.”

_Oh._ “Oh.” That was entirely too much work for Kon just to tell him he’s not mad at Tim for standing too close to his girlfriend. Tim shakes his head lightly. “Kon, I’m not...I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend or something.”

Kon swallows. He rubs his hand over his mouth and looks away, then back again. “I know. You’re my best friend.”

“Right,” Tim says, glad they’ve cleared that up.

“Right,” Kon agrees, also looking somewhat relieved. “That’s why it’s okay.”

“For me to hang out with Cassie?”

“Well, yeah. I mean - uh.” Oh no, the awkwardness is back. “Of course it’s okay for you to hang with Cassie. You guys are friends too.”

“Yeeees,” Tim says, dragging the word out in an effort to show that he’s _trying_ to follow Kon’s line of thought, but Kon is making it _very difficult._

“And Cassie and I talked and...kind of shouted maybe...but we worked stuff out. She’s, you know, a liberated Amazon woman. And it’s not like we’re married or something. And you’re my friend, and if you can’t trust, you know, your best friend...” Kon trails off.

Tim can feel the smirk coming, and he fights it for as long as he can, but there’s not much he can do about it. “Kon, let me repeat. I am _not_ going to steal your girlfriend.” And he can just imagine how Cassie might have reacted to the idea she could be ‘stolen’ in the first place - ‘kind of shouted maybe’ might be an understatement of actual events. “But if I’m getting what you’re saying - which is kind of _hard to do right now_... you’re telling me you’re not going to get pissed if I flirt with Cassie sometimes? As a friend?”

“As...” Kon stops and swallows before taking a deep breath, apparently bracing himself. “As not just a friend. Cassie and I talked, and if you’re interested, you should go for it, because she definitely is.”

Tim...can’t really say anything to that, so he just sits there with his mouth open like an idiot.

“And I decided I could be okay with that, because you’re my friend and I know you wouldn’t hurt her or try and, like, turn her against me or something, and because it would make her happy and I like to make her happy. But now I’m sitting here actually thinking about it and I think it would be kind of...”

Tim manages to get his voice under control. “Weird?”

“Yeah. But maybe kind of hot, too.”

Sudden heat shoots through Tim at his words. “Yeah?”

This is insane. Maybe he’s still asleep upstairs in Bart’s bed. Dreams of sandwiches and sex would make sense in that context. Under the table, Tim pinches himself.

Nothing happens. Kon is still staring at him. “Yeah,” he whispers, voice slightly hoarse.

“So... hypothetically speaking, if Cassie and I were to become ...physically involved, you’d want to...to watch?”

Kon...licks his lips. Nods his head. And then Tim’s chair is moving toward him, and Kon’s hand is on his knee. “Maybe...more than watch. If...” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know if you like dudes, dude, I just-”

Tim leans forward, half-out of his chair, and cups his cheek. Kon falls silent at the touch a moment before Tim’s lips touch his, gentle and tentative. Tim has thought about this for a long time... not as long as he had with Dick, of course, but it’s been in his mind. Kon’s mouth is just as firm as he’d imagined - until it softens and parts under his with a sigh.

_Different._  Kon’s kiss is different from Bart’s rapid, enthusiastic ones, different from Dick’s thorough and hungry ones.  Kon’s kisses are slow, and almost unbearably sweet.  They start out hesitant, but gradually draw him in, deeper and deeper, until Tim is entirely out of his chair, bent over Kon with one arm wrapped around his neck and the other around his waist.  It’s almost like when they fight together, their movements instinctive.  Easy.

Then Kon breaks off with a gasp.  “ _Cassie_ ,” he says.  “We need to go back to...”

It’s a wrench to pull his mind away from the kiss, from _Kon_ , but then the words call to mind the memory of Cassie standing outside the Tower, her hair golden in the sunlight, and Tim closes his eyes and nods.  “Yes.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.”  Both of them startle, turning to the doorway.  Tim frowns at himself.  That’s the second time tonight. Normally he would have been _aware_ of someone else coming into the room.  Normally-

His thoughts derail completely as he sees Cassie standing there.  She’s leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over the red emblem on her chest, long, shapely legs bare and smooth.  Tim swallows and pulls his eyes away from the hint of lace just below the hem of her borrowed shirt, back up to her face again.

She quirks an eyebrow at the two of them, seeming amused, but there’s a spark of something else in her expression, too. She shifts her weight and cocks her hip slightly, and Tim’s eye is drawn to the lace again. She looks even better in the shirt than Kon does.

Kon’s chair scrapes the floor as he pushes it back.  “C-Cassie,” he says.  

She doesn’t look mad.  Her lips are curved into a small smirk, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck, and her breathing is faster than normal.  Tim pushes his own chair back and approaches her.  She meets his eyes with a challenge.  

“Cassie,” he says, his voice low, and her eyes flash.  She’s _turned on_ , he realizes.  He wants to touch her, to run his hands over the soft fabric and trace her shape beneath it, to press between her legs, touch that lace and see if she’s _wet_ there...

Her eyes flash again.  “Tim.”

“Um,” Kon says from behind Tim, half-way across the kitchen, as if physical distance _now_ will provide some kind of deniabilty. As if anything _needs_ to be denied. Can’t he see the heat in Cassie’s eyes? She _liked_ it - liked watching them. “I guess...we all need to talk, maybe?” It’s a struggle to tear his eyes away from Cassie’s, but Tim turns to look at Kon, who’s staring at them with his eyes wide, vainly _trying_ to take this slowly, sanely, rationally. “We should, you know, sit down and...”

“Upstairs,” Tim says, when Kon trails off. “We should talk about it upstairs.” He turns back to Cassie. Tim can’t help reaching out to her, and when she gives him her hand he pulls her against him, hip to hip, and beckons Kon to come with them. “Is my room okay?” He asks Cassie as he tugs her toward the door to the hall, toward the elevators. Cassie goes with the pull willingly, pressing against him as they move. Her arm mirrors his, around his back, hand resting on his hip.

Her golden hair brushes like silk over his shoulder as she leans close to speak.  “Sounds perfect.”

“ _Fuck,”_ Kon says, low, and with feeling - but he doesn’t sound like he’s complaining. He floats after them, catching up quickly, until Tim can feel the heat of his body just a few inches away, feel his breath.

Cassie’s hand slides over Tim’s bare back as they walk down the hall, up between his shoulder blades, then down again, her fingertips dipping below the waistband of his loose cotton pants. “So, what were you boys talking about? I only caught the end of it.”

“You,” Kon says, before Tim can answer.

When they get to the end of the hall, Tim spins her around against the elevator door. Kon leans past them to jab frantically at the button as Tim molds himself against her, feeling her breasts against his chest, rucking up the shirt to put his hands on her hips. Her hands slide up his arms, holding him close to her. “You look amazing in this.”

“Yeah,” Kon agrees, his voice rough, and close behind Tim. His hand - bigger and warmer than Dick’s, but smooth and uncalloused, like Bart’s - strokes over his back, up to the back of his shoulder. “She does. Oh my god, this is really going to happen isn’t it?”

Cassie’s lips part, but before she can answer, Tim leans closer and licks her bottom lip, then presses his mouth to hers. She melts under the kiss, eyes closing, head dropping back against the door. Her body arches up against his, hips seeking forward, pressing against him. The door opens suddenly, and she falls back, Tim stumbling forward after her - but then they stop, caught just inside the door, precariously off balance.

“Careful,” Kon says, with a laugh in his voice. His chest is pressed to Tim’s back, arms reaching around him, past him, fingertips just barely brushing Cassie’s hands. He pulls them both back upright and then pushes them into the elevator, still molded against Tim’s back.

When Tim tries to turn and look at him, he finds he _can’t_ \- Kon is holding him still. The feeling makes him shiver all over. Cassie’s hands slide up over his chest, her painted nails scratching lightly at his skin. Kon’s hips roll against the small of Tim’s back - he’s hard, and Tim can feel it. He can feel - oh god, Kon’s lips on the back of his neck, Cassie’s thumbs rubbing circles over his nipples as she bends her head to kiss him again-

The elevator stops moving. Tim is too busy trying to tease Cassie’s tongue into his mouth to notice, so it’s a good thing Kon is there to drag them both back through the open doors.

“You need to unlock your door, dude.”  Kon’s breath tickles his ear, and it takes Tim much longer than it should for him to decipher what the words actually _mean_.  When he finally does, he blinks and reaches past Cassie to press his palm to the lock, then key in the randomized thirteen-digit code for the door.

The lock clicks open.  Kon carries them both inside the room, barely touching them.  It’s hot, being moved, being _carried_ so easily.  Kon lays the two of them onto the bed, and Tim can’t help imagining other things he could do with that power.  He could hold Tim, hold both of them in any position he _wanted_ , could restrain Tim so that he couldn’t even _move_ -

A groan escapes his throat.  He feels Cassie shiver against him and opens his eyes, staring into hers.  She is so _beautiful_.  “You’re a goddess,” he says, and she looks surprised, then laughs.

“Well, a demi-goddess anyway,” she replies.  “Or so I’m told.”

He slides his hands under her shirt, pushing it up until he can finally see her breasts and her black, lacy underwear.  “Let me worship you,” he whispers.  Her eyes widen and her lips part, but no sound comes out until he bends his head to wrap his lips around her right nipple.  Then she gives a small cry and arches into the touch.

“ _Fuck_ ,” whispers Kon again, and Tim reaches out blindly with one hand, not willing to look up.  The bed shifts as Kon settles on her other side, and then there’s another head bent next to Tim’s as Kon captures her other nipple. 

This time Cassie _shouts_ , shuddering hard.  She buries her hand in Tim’s hair, not pulling, but shifting and gripping the back of his head as she writhes beneath the two of them.  He can’t resist running his own fingers down her chest, between her breasts, down her stomach and past her naval, to the edge of the lace and down over the silky fabric.  She _is_ wet there, he can feel it through the panties, and when he presses down, her hips jerk up, rocking into his touch.  

“ _Yes_ ,” she says.  “Yes, god, Kon, Tim.  Fuck, it’s so good, so _good_ -” she cuts herself off with a gasp.  Tim lifts his head from teasing her nipple, giving it a last lick before leaving both breasts to Kon.  Sliding down Cassie’s body, he stops when he gets to her underwear, running his fingers along the lace edges before hooking around them and tugging them down.

Her pubic hair is dark gold, a deeper color than her hair, and shaved into a familiar pentagonal shape.  There’s no ‘S’ inside, but it’s eminently recognizable nonetheless, and the sight makes Tim squeeze his eyes shut and hump the bed.  Had she shaved it herself?  Or had Kon helped her, his face bent close, his TTK steadying the razor...

Tim has to hump the bed one more time.  He presses his lips into the center of the shape, smelling the faint scent of Cassie’s body wash, a sweet smell, and the strong, warm, musky smell of her sex.  

He wants _more_ of that.

Pulling back, he _looks_ at her, taking in the shape of her, the outer lips flushed and open, the slick shine between them, dripping all the way down to the crack of her ass.

Leaning forward again, he runs the tip of his tongue over the small, hooded bud of her clitorus.  The effect is immediate - her hips jerk, and she gives a sharp cry.  He does it again, then wraps his lips around it, darting his tongue over and over it.

Tim’s read plenty of books about the human body.  But nothing, no words, no pictures, no videos, pornographic or clinical, has prepared him for this.  For the taste, slightly sour and salty.  For the feel of her against his tongue, his lips.  For the smell, thick and warm in his nose.  For the _sounds_ she makes, each touch eliciting a gasp or a whimper.  She sounds nothing at all like any woman in any porn Tim has ever seen.

_More._

He traces her outer lips with a finger tip, then pushes inside.  She gives a strangled yelp, her hips shifting restlessly.  She’s so _open_ , so slick and deep.  He pushes in another finger, easily, and feels her tighten around them, milking them.  What would it be like to have his _cock_ inside that deep warmth?  To feel her muscles squeezing and releasing him?  The thought makes him pant and ache.  He can feel himself dripping precome onto his sheets and reaches down to squeeze himself with the hand still sticky with her juices.

"Don’t stop,” she moans.  “God, both of you, Tim, Kon, _please._ ”

He hears himself make a sound, a kind of strangled groan, and dips his head to lick faster and harder.  At the same time he brings his hand back into her, three fingers now, pushing inside as far as he can go and pulling out again, over and over.  She’s thrusting back against him, arching, her body gripping his fingers.  The rhythm gets faster, and suddenly, unexpectedly, she freezes, her back arched and her body pumping him.  He sucks hard on her clit.  The sound of her scream makes him shoot precome again, because she’s _coming_.  His hand is coated in her wetness and her body tightens and releases for several more seconds before she relaxes, collapsing back onto the bed with a little moan.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she says fervently.  He licks her again, and she pushes him away with a gasping little laugh.  “Enough,” she says.  “God, more than enough.  So _good_.”  Her hand comes down to twine in his hair again, and it feels like a blessing.

Until she sits up and tugs him closer.  “Cassie,” he moans as she leans down and captures his mouth with hers.  Then she’s _lifting_ him, rolling him onto his back and pressing him down against the pillows.  “Cassie?”

“Your turn,” she says, her voice low.  She glances at Kon.  “Right?”

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” breathes Kon, and then both of them are _on_ him.  His sweatpants are gone in moments, discarded who-knows-where, and they’re _sharing_ him, licking him together.  He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands going to their heads, to Kon’s short hair and Cassie’s long, silky curls.  

“Both of you,” he whispers.  “I-”  He closes his mouth over the words that are trying to escape, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.  Cassie’s tongue flickers over the tip of his cock, while Kon bends his head to tease his balls.  “I...” whispers Tim again.  The words seem to press against his lips, rising like a different kind of orgasm.  He wants to say them.  He _needs_ to.

“Both of you,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes closed tight, a hand on each head.  “I - I love you both so much.  My teammates.  My _friends_.”

There’s a pause in their movements, a moment of stillness, and then Kon is suddenly _there_ , kissing his lips, while Cassie focuses her full attention between Tim’s legs.  She’s so good at it, really damn good at it, and Tim realizes that she must have learned on _Kon_. 

The thought makes him groan into Kon’s mouth, his hips jerking.  Kon pulls away until there’s about an inch between their lips, his eyes smiling into Tim’s.  “Wanted you for so long,” whispers Tim, and Kon’s eyebrows jerk upward.

“How long?” he says, his voice husky.

“Since the first time I saw you - disassemble Metallo - with your TTK,” admits Tim between gasps and groans.  

"That long?”  Kon blinks.  “Whoa, dude, if I’d *known*...”  He kisses Tim fiercely until Tim whimpers and shudders as Cassie mouths his balls, sucking them gently, probably far more gently than she sucks Kon’s.  

“If you’d known?”  Tim’s eyes are closed.  He can feel it, the tightening deep inside, the rising, inevitable tide.  “How long have - ah! - you wanted me, Kon?  Since I brought you to your knees with Kryptonite?”  He’s not serious; he knows that this has to be a new thing for Kon, something put into his head by Cassie and their earlier discussion.  

“No,” says Kon, “But it was just after that.  I was still weakened from the exposure, and I fell...and you _caught me_.”  Tim’s eyes fly open, staring.  Kon’s eyes meet his, guileless.

“I...we...caught each other,” says Tim.  He reaches with the hand that’s not on Cassie’s head.  Kon’s jeans are in the way, and Tim growls.  “ _Off_.”

Kon shifts, and then his pants are sliding off all at once, and Tim can feel him, hard and hot in his hand.  All three of his male lovers are uncut, he reflects as he wraps his hand around Kon, but they’re all so different.  Sliding Kon’s foreskin up and back is like sliding silk over polished, hot stone.

Tim grips it as hard as he can.  He thinks of Cassie and Kon together, all their strength, all their passion - and he feels a moment of nervousness, and hopes that Cassie doesn’t forget the fact that, unlike Kon, *he’s* not invulnerable.  But her mouth on him, though insistent, is gentle, and he relaxes again.  Closing his eyes, he strokes Kon in time with Cassie’s movements, letting her set the pace and drive both of them.  Everything is a haze of pleasure, sweet and hot and endlessly building.  He squeezes and slides as Cassie’s tongue works over him, as her head moves up and down with each suck.  

It’s so good.  It’s _amazing_.  He’d never thought he could have something like this.  But he can.  He _does_.  

He can feel the tightening deep inside again, and he groans as orgasm hits him, intense.  A long wave of pleasure spilling out of him and into Cassie’s eager mouth.

“Fuck,” whispers Kon.  Tim opens his eyes to see Kon watching him, still thrusting into his grip, which has slackened a little.  Tim tightens his hand again, hard.

“Your turn, Kon,” he says, low and commanding.  “You’ll come for us, won’t you?”

Kon’s eyes go wide.  “Fuck, fuck, Rob, I-”  His thrusts become faster, then still, and Tim grins as he feels the sudden wet heat covering his fingers.

_Yes._

*

It’s hours later, after they’d all sluiced off in the shower, too tired to do much else, and fallen asleep curled together on Tim’s bed, when he wakes to a soft sound.  It’s quite late - or rather, early, he realizes, that surreal time before the sun is up when the sky is only just beginning to lighten.  He blinks and yawns and opens his eyes.

Kon is fucking Cassie next to him, slow and leisurely, the two of them floating just above the bed.  He can see their skin gleaming faintly in the dim room.  Their breathing is deep and harsh, and they’re both clearly trying not to make any other sounds.

Tim watches them, feeling like he’s floating himself in his half-awake state.  Part of him doesn’t want to move, but as Kon sinks into Cassie again and again, Tim feels his cock twitch and stir.  

“Mmm,” he sighs and stretches.  

They turn their heads to look at him.  “I’m sorry we woke you,” says Cassie softly, breathlessly.

“It’s all right,” he replies.  “It’s a really nice way to wake up.”  He pushes the sheets down, letting the cool night air wash over his bare skin, and wraps one hand around himself, teasing and stroking.

Kon makes a sound.

“Kon,” says Tim, slowly working himself to full hardness.

“Yeah?”

“Can I fuck you while you fuck Cassie?”

Twin sounds of Kon sucking in air and Cassie doing the same.  Their slow rhythm falters for a moment.  “Yes,” breathes Kon.  “You can do that, Tim.”

Tim takes his time getting the lube out of the drawer next to the bed and carefully applying it to himself.  He climbs on top of them - they’re only a couple of inches off the bed, so he can reach just fine - and presses one slick finger against Kon’s hole.

“I - “ Kon gasps.  “I don’t need prep.  You can’t hurt me, Tim.  Do it.”

Tim hesitates, then positions himself.  He’s fully hard, after applying the slick lubricant to himself, so he takes a deep breath and presses forward.

_Tight._  “Are you- ah - are you sure I’m not hurting you?”  

“You’re.  God.  You’re good,” says Kon.  “It’s good.”

Tim pushes in further, into that tight heat, until he’s buried in it.  Kon groans, and Cassie whimpers softly.  Tim reaches down and fumbles until he finds her arms, her shoulders.  He cups them and strokes them for a moment.

Then he’s being _lifted_ by an invisible force.  He’s pulled out of Kon, then _slammed_ into him again.  He hears himself making a sharp sound.  It doesn’t hurt, but he’s being held completely still, his hips pulling back and pushing forward with no conscious effort or control on his part whatsoever.  Kon groans, and Tim’s hips are tugged into a slightly different angle.

Kon’s _using_ him, using his body like a living sex toy.  Maybe it should be offensive, or frightening, except it’s not.  It’s incredibly, ridiculously _hot._  Tim’s hips want to jerk at the thought, but remain held firmly still, moving in and out at exactly the pace that _Kon_ wants.  Tim closes his eyes and lets go, lets himself become as a moving part in a machine.  Kon’s body is still moving into Cassie, and Tim’s rhythm matches his perfectly, driving down into Kon as Kon drives down into her.  It’s almost like he’s fucking Cassie with Kon’s dick, reflects Tim.  It shouldn’t work, but it _does_ , because Kon’s doing all of it.

He’s pulled in again - and again.  The rhythm is just slightly slower than he wants, not tortuously slow, but not quite _enough_.  But he can’t make it faster, can’t do anything but let himself be moved.  Kon grunts each time Tim’s pushed inside, and Tim thinks he’s angled exactly right to hit Kon’s prostate with every thrust.  

Despite the slow speed, the slick, tight heat and constant, repetitive motions start to take their toll.  Tim feels a moan rising in his throat, long and low.  The sound seems to do something to Kon, the tempo increasing just the tiniest bit.

“You feel so good,” say Tim.  “So tight and hot.  God, Kon...faster, _please_.”  Instead, the tempo slows back to its original speed.  Tim tries to growl, but he’s too breathless.  “ _Kon_.”

“Not yet,” says Kon.

Tim moans again.  The sky is just a little lighter, letting him see Cassie’s face over Kon’s shoulder.  She has her eyes closed and her mouth open, panting.  Her hands are digging into Kon’s sides with a strength that would likely _break_ a normal person.  “Kon,” she moans.  “Don’t stop.”  Her hips are jerking up, meeting Kon’s thrusts.  Kon leans down and kisses her neck, slowly and thoroughly.  Tim’s body keeps moving all the while, in and out.

“Kon...I can’t.  I can’t _take_ much more of this,” he says.  For a terrible moment, his body stills, half-in and half-out.

“Am I hurting you?” asks Kon.

“ _No!_  Fuck, don’t _stop!_ ”  The movements start again, in exactly the same rhythm as before.  Somehow it’s even more intense, though.  “I - I just meant - I won’t be able to hold back much longer if - if I can’t touch myself or -”

“Don’t hold back,” says Kon.  “Let me feel you coming inside me, Tim.”

Tim’s eyes go wide, and heat surges through him.  He wants to grab himself, to pull out, but he _can’t_.  He can’t do anything but feel himself sliding in and out of that tight, hot hole.  

“Let go, Tim.”  Kon’s voice is gentle.

“Let me watch you come, Tim.”  Cassie’s voice is not.  It’s more like an order than a request - and that just turns him on more.  He lets his eyes close, lets his body relax completely again, into the cradling field, lets himself _feel_ every moment of this.

He can’t hold back anymore.  He doesn’t even *want* to anymore.  The feeling overtakes him with a sudden sharp rush that makes him try to arch his back and strain against the hold on him as his body pumps out his orgasm into his friend, leaving the way even slicker.

Kon doesn’t stop moving him.  Tim groans, it’s so much, it’s too much, but before he can get the breath to say so, his body is jerked down hard into Kon once, twice, thrice more - and then it stills, Kon’s body rock-hard beneath him.  Cassie’s own voice rises in a long, high wail.  Tim forces his eyes open so he can watch her throw her head back and arch, her golden hair spread out on the pillow, her skin gleaming with sweat in the pre-dawn light.  

“Beautiful,” he can’t help but murmur.  “You’re both so beautiful.”

  
*


	4. Chapter 4

When Tim wakes up, his cheek is pillowed against Cassie's breast in a puddle of warm sunlight. It feels so nice that he decides not to move, even though his arm is asleep.

The second time he wakes up, someone is petting his ass. That's nice, too, so he snuggles down against his breast pillow. 

"-kinda can't believe this actually happened," Kon is murmuring. His hand strokes up from Tim's ass, along his spine, and back again. "I never would have thought either of you would go for this. Never thought _he_ could be like that, so open and...just...god."

"Are you complaining?" Cassie's voice is rough and low from sex and sleep, and it's that as much as Kon's fingertips on his thigh that makes him groan and start to wake up properly.

Kon's hand disappears as soon as he opens his eyes. "Mm," Tim grumbles as he kisses Cassie's right nipple good morning. "I want waffles." 

"Unf," Cassie grunts. "Gods, yes. I'm _starving._ " She yawns and stretches, squeaking slightly in the back of her throat. The motion makes her breasts shift enticingly and Tim forgets about waffles to shove his face between them. 

Cassie laughs, making her sternum flutter under his lips. Her fingernails scratch lightly over his scalp, and then she pushes at him. "Food first, and I need a shower." She stretches again and Tim raises his head to watch her. "And a back rub or something." She smiles up at him. "Bring me breakfast in bed and I'll let you pour syrup anywhere you want." 

Tim sits up and starts looking for his pants. 

“Is this... going to be a thing?" Kon asks, sounding strangely tentative. He sits up, too, and the sheet falls away to puddle on his thighs. "Like, all three of us?" 

Tim tears his eyes back up to Kon's face. "God, I hope so." He licks his lips. "Can I blow you again while the waffles are cooking?"

Kon's eyes widen, but he gets up. Once he's reasonably dressed, he bends to kiss Cassie. She's fallen back to sleep, though, so he ends up just brushing his lips over her cheek. 

The tenderness of the scene makes Tim's stomach tighten. "Or I could blow you first and then we could make waffles." 

"Guh," Kon says, straightening up to stare at Tim with eyes glazed faintly pink. "I. Jesus. Don't think I'm saying no, here, but we need to talk before we do anything else."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Tim turns and heads for the door. "About what? This doesn't have to be awkward unless we make it awkward." 

"Yeah, but is this like... you moving into our room, or us just doing this all together sometimes, or is it okay to do it with just you while Cassie's sleeping, or what?" Kon follows him out into the hall, keeping his voice hushed. "Are we going to tell people?" 

"This can be whatever you want, Kon. I love you." Kon sucks in a breath, and Tim turns to smile at him. "You're my best friend. And I love Cassie, too. But I know you're happy together, and if you don't think this should happen again, I won't push-"

"I didn't _say_ that," Kon mumbles. He steps closer and reaches out slowly, fingertips brushing Tim's cheek. His hand is warm, hot even, and Tim turns to push his face into the touch like a cat as he narrows the gap between their bodies. "God, now that I know what you're _like_ \- fuck, Tim, I wanna do you _all the time_. That's kind of the..." Kon stops mid-sentence and closes his eyes, swaying slightly in place. 

"As long as Cassie's okay with it, I don't see a problem here, Kon," Tim says, smiling. He steps back, starting to walk backward toward the kitchen and hoping Kon will follow. It will just be more efficient to fuck in the kitchen while the food is cooking, so they can get back to Cassie faster and get a head start on thoroughly ruining the sheets. If he asks nicely, maybe Kon will fuck him while Cassie rides his face-

Kon takes a step toward him, and then stumbles. 

Tim freezes. "Are you okay?" 

"I dunno," Kon mumbles. "I feel weird. Last night got me all...off balance, I guess." 

Kon really looks distressingly wobbly. Tim watches as Kon puts a hand to his head, still swaying in place. "Are you sick?"

"Can't be. I don't get, like, Earth diseases." Kon waves the idea away with the hand not pressed to his temple. "I'm just tired or something. Heh. You guys wore me out, I guess." 

"Tim!" There's a rush of air, a blur of motion, and Tim is being pressed against the wall with Bart's tongue in his mouth. "Mmph, I waited forever for you to wake up. Completely patient. I need a reward." 

Before Tim can answer he's being kissed breathless again.

"...dude!"

Tim shivers under the onslaught of Bart's lips and tongue and wandering hands, grasping at Bart's ass for something to hold onto and trying to get a little oxygen as Bart starts to hump his thigh. "Oh," Bart says suddenly, which gives Tim the chance to suck in a breath. "Thank you for the cookies." He presses his mouth to Tim's and buzzes all over, making Tim's teeth rattle and his cock spring to full attention. After a second or two of that, Bart gasps and shudders to a stop, leaving a hot, wet spot on the hip of Tim's pajama pants. 

Tim can kiss him better now, with the first rush of urgency past. He cups his hand to Bart's neck to hold him there so that Tim can suck his tongue. 

And then Bart is abruptly gone. 

"What. The fuck. Is going on?" 

Tim opens his eyes to see Kon holding Bart several feet off the floor. He's staring at Tim, though, with his "shit-has-hit-the-fan" superhero game-face on. 

"Way to be a giant cock-block," Bart grumbles, struggling against his hold, his pants around his ankles. 

Later, Tim will be ashamed that this was what it took for him to realize something strange was going on. 

*

This has to be the most awkward meeting that has ever taken place in Titan's Tower. More awkward than "I knocked up a supervillain." More awkward than "On Earth, we tend to cover certain parts of our bodies in public." Probably more awkward than, "Batman fired me," but Tim's not entirely sure about that one.

"It could be like Poison Ivy," Kon is saying. "Maybe we were exposed to something yesterday?" 

"I don't think I was exposed." Vic is leaning against the far wall - the furthest place he could possibly be leaning, actually, without leaving the room. He's got his hand on Gar's shoulder, as if he doesn't trust him not to get close enough to be contaminated. 

"Do you still have all the parts, though?" Bart asks. "Or is that one of the bionic pieces?" He looks...entirely too intrigued by the idea.

Tim reaches out and gets his hand around Bart's wrist just as Bart starts thrumming, forestalling closer investigation. It might not have been so bad if Tim could stop where his own imagination was trying to take him after that question. "If you haven't already been exposed, I think the two of you should leave the room. We can have this conversation via the video communication system." 

"About that," Gar says, and coughs. He looks at Vic's hand. And then he looks at Bart. 

"Oh for crying out loud!" Kon shouts, throwing up his hands. Vic jumps away from Gar at the same time, looking down at his robotic arm and flexing his fingers. 

"Tim was asleep!" Bart protests. 

"I'm going to go disinfect," Vic mutters. 

"And I was really curious!" 

Gar is rubbing the back of his neck. He's flushing darkly, and it looks...really nice on his green skin. "He was definitely 'really curious.'" 

Tim has to shake himself, then, for more than the flush disappearing down Gar's throat. 'Curious' could imply...so many things here.

"I can't believe you had sex with Bart," Kon mutters from his chair in the corner. "Either of you! That's just-" 

Tim loses his grip on Bart's wrist as he zips over to stand in front of Kon, hands on his hips. "Finish that sentence." 

Kon blinks and swallows and seems unable to say anything, his eyes fixed on Bart as he stands over him. 

"For the record," Gar says as Vic slips out of the room, "...he can vibrate. All over." 

Kon continues to look a bit like he's staring at an oncoming train. "Um."

"Blame and recriminations later," Tim interrupts, because he's pretty sure if he doesn't get things under control this is going to end in some kind of orgy. "So does everyone agree that the symptoms started after the battle yesterday?" 

There's a chorus of agreement from the guys. Cassie shakes her head, though. "It started Friday, when we got here." 

Tim turns to look at her. She's been much quieter than the boys, sitting near Kon with her fingertips against her lips and listening while the rest of them talked. "Do you think the tower itself is contaminated somehow?" 

She shakes her head and bites her lip. Tim really, really wants to go over there and bite it for her. That would probably be counterproductive, though. "No. I think. I think it started when you got here, Tim." 

The words hit him like a blow. He's not sure it's intended as an accusation, but that's how it _feels._ Everyone has turned to stare at him. 

"Did you do anything weird this week?" Gar asks. "Out of the ordinary weird, I mean. Fight any magic villains, or I don't know, Superboy could have been right about Poison Ivy." 

"No," Kon says, "This isn't like Ivy. It's more like... I don't know, Knockout. Or-" 

"Nightwing," Tim says, feeling something tighten in his chest. "I had sex with Nightwing. Monday, after patrol." 

It's quiet for what feels like a full minute, and then Bart clears his throat. "So, is that a normal thing for you, or..." 

"No," Tim interrupts. "No, it. That was the first time I ever...did that. With anyone." He thinks back to his perfect whirlwind week, all the wonderful sex, all the time he's gotten to spend with Dick, who's usually so very busy. "That's when I... I mean, I thought it was...normal. To want it so much. After that." 

"Tim..." Cassie says, sounding tentative. "Were the two of you exposed to something that would, ah, cause you to act irrationally, or..." 

"I don't know," Tim says, and he hates how his voice sounds. Was everything that happened between them, everything Dick _said_ over the last week, a symptom of some kind of poisoning or curse? Is the only reason Dick ever touched him because he was _drugged?_

"I don't blame you, man. I'd do Nightwing," Bart says. From his tone of voice, Tim can tell that he's trying to be helpful. "He's fucking hot." 

Gar...coughs again. "Flexible, too."

Tim sits down and puts his head in his hands.

*

“H’lo?”

“Dick, it’s. It’s Tim.”

“Hey. Having fun?” The words are innocuous enough, but the warm, intimate note that creeps into his voice makes them something else. Something private.

Tim swallows. “Dick, we need to...I need to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong?” 

God, Tim doesn’t even know what to _say_. “I-” He swallows again, takes another breath. “When you...when we...” 

Dick waits patiently for him to go on before finally saying, his tone gentle, “When we what?”

Tim squeezes his eyes shut, glad he told the others that he wanted to talk to Nightwing alone. “When we had sex last week - when you kissed me after patrol that night - did you, were you feeling...weird? Had you been, um. Exposed to something, maybe?”

“Exposed?” Dick’s tone is confused. Tim can _hear_ him frowning. “Exposed to what?”

“Um. Ivy? Or...or someone like that?”

There’s a long pause. “Not as far as I know,” Dick says eventually. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I-” _I just had sex with most of the Tower._ “Why _did_ you kiss me?” he blurts out. 

“I...I just wanted to.” Dick sounds almost lost. “You looked amazing, and it felt _right_...Tim, what’s _wrong?_ ” There's a pause, and when Dick speaks again, his voice is very quiet. "You wanted it, too, didn't you? I didn't... I never wanted to push you into anything you-"

“No," Tim says quickly, "That's not it. I-” How can he even _tell_ Dick? “I had sex with Bart and Kon and Cassie. Yesterday.”

There’s another long pause. “...So?”

“Don’t you think that’s just a bit...” Tim doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence.

“Are you feeling _guilty?_ I *told* you, I wanted you to go have fun with your friends-”

“Dick-”

“It’s okay, Tim! When I was at the old Tower with _my_ Titans, I used to-”

“Dick! That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then...what are you talking about?”

Tim blows out a breath and opens his eyes. Maybe he should have had this conversation in person after all, but he can't risk breaking quarantine. He gazes out the Tower window, staring at the city beyond the water. “Look,” he says. “I’m not...I’m not acting like myself. It’s not just the sex-” Well, okay, it’s mostly the sex. “I’m not...noticing things I should. And it started.” Tim makes himself say it. “It started after we had sex that first night.”

"I knocked you off your game?" Dick's tone is obviously joking, but under it, Tim thinks he sounds worried. “It's only been a week, though. Maybe you're just tired? Or maybe you're coming down with something? I don’t know what to tell you, Tim. I feel normal. I feel fine.”

“Have you been...” Tim hesitates. He's not sure if he's got the right to ask. 

“What?”

“Have you been having sex with anyone else?”

“Just Kory. Oh, and Roy, we just-”

”Dick!”Tim interrupts. If Dick gets going about threesomes and redheads, Tim will get distracted by phone sex and never figure out what the hell is wrong with him. 

“Are you jealous?” Dick’s tone is mildly surprised.

“No!” 

Well, maybe a little. Despite the fact that it makes him the most awful hypocrite on the planet. “I just. When we. When we...” Tim sinks down, leaning back against his bed. “I-” 

"Tim...seriously, are you okay? You can tell me anything." 

Can he, really? What if he fixes whatever happened to him and Dick doesn't want him anymore? But it would be wrong to keep putting others at risk because of something so selfish... 

"Something's wrong," Tim blurts. "I'm turned on all the time, now, and I thought it was just because I've been around _you_ all week _,_ but it...it isn't just you, anymore. And whatever's wrong with me, I think I passed it to Bart, and Kon, and maybe Cassie. And Gar, I guess- I mean, I didn't - Bart slept with Gar. I didn't." 

"Nothing wrong with it if you did. There aren't a lot of ways to experiment with consensual bestiality-" 

_"Dick!"_

"I'm listening, I promise. You really think you're being affected by something?" 

“I. I think I must be. I’m not acting like myself. I’m acting like...” _you_. He stops short, then says quickly, “It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with being...being...”

“Horny?” supplies Dick, amusement creeping into his tone again.

“Promiscuous,” Tim snaps back, then adds more quietly, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, Dick. But something’s wrong with _me_. And. And the others think so, too.”

The frown is definitely back in Dick’s voice. “Really? This isn’t just...” He trails off.

“It’s not morning-after regrets,” says Tim. "And I think it's communicable. You should isolate yourself and send me blood and semen samples. Warn Starfire and Arsenal as well." 

"Jeeze. Are you sure-" Dick sounds worried. Maybe Tim's seriousness, his worry, is finally getting through. 

"Wouldn't you rather take the precaution? If you can get samples from them, too, that would help. I can run ours against the blood samples on file to see if anything's changed. If there is, it gives me something to look for with the others, to see who's infected." 

There's silence on the other end for a long moment, and then Dick sighs. "Yeah. Okay. I'll go tell Kory and Roy we need to lock ourselves up and masturbate for science. Keep me posted?"

"Of course," Tim says, because even if Dick isn't an epidemiologist, he's got a good scientific background, and he's not an idiot. He might have insight that could be useful. "Oh, and Dick - "

"Yeah?"

Tim swallows. "I think I am going to need a list of your sexual partners. Just. You know. In case." Not that he's looking forward to seeing all the names laid out like that, with his tacked on to the end like an afterthought. 

*

Monthly well-check blood tests, tests after significant blood exposures, after knife wounds, after they get vomited on, after chemical and biological weapons exposure, after every trip to space and fight with aliens - when Alfred lands the jet on the roof and drops off the little vials and slides Bruce has been keeping in the cave's cold storage rooms, he leaves behind several stacks of insulated crates. Tim waves at him through the window before he takes off again. 

Tim has Kon help him get the crates down to the lab, but he has to throw him out again when they end up dry humping each other against the workbench. Alfred sent along a consolatory tupperware of cookies with the biological specimens, so he at least has something to give Kon in exchange for the help and the fresh stain on the front of his blue jeans. 

Time to start gathering data.

Tim starts with a drop of his own blood under a light microscope, because you should always start with the obvious. He's hoping for something visible - an amoeba, a bacterium, even ruptured cell fragments or deformed cells that might indicate a viral infection. Nothing shows. 

There's an immune response of some kind going on, though. Kon and Gar have significantly elevated levels of interleukins 2, 3, and 12, indicating that they're responding to some kind of infection. Tim's own blood is showing just enough interleukin 12 to make him consider the connection, even though it’s still within normal levels. Bart, Cassie and Vic come up clean. Interesting. So Kon and Gar are showing an immune response - and maybe Tim _was_ , but he fought off the pathogen? If that's the case, Bart could have completely cleared the infection by now, with his accelerated metabolism. Was Cassie never infected? Tim _did_ have pretty close contact with her. On the other hand, she’s technically a demigod, and Tim’s not sure exactly how that affects someone’s immune response.

One of the nice things about being a superhero with virtually unlimited financial backing and access to both alien tech and some of the best computer programmers on the planet - there's basically no end to what one can do through sheer brute force computing. He'll run whole-genome sequences of the samples - all the samples, including the ones from Bruce's storage. It will take time, but he's borrowing computer power from several satellite batcaves, Barbara's back-up systems, and a bit of what the Watchtower can spare. Once he's got actual data to work with, he'll be able to run comparisons. Six billion letters of code to work through for each sample, and hundreds of samples, but he has time and processing power. He'll be able to find the pattern. He can figure this thing out. He can-

Bart's arms are wrapped around his waist. Tim straightens up from the stance he'd adopted at the amplifier and feels the grip tighten. There's an erection pressed against Tim's ass. "I thought I locked the door."

"Gar-threw-me-out," Bart says, as if that's an explanation, the words coming out as one continuous whine. "And Kon got-tired and held-me-down-and-fell-asleep and then-Cassie-tied-me-up-but-I-got-away." 

Tim presses his palm against his face. This is his fault. His carelessness. His inability keep his goddamned pants on in the face of Bart's warm skin and deft fingers, which are currently working their way under his lab coat. 

"Stop brooding," Bart growls against his ear. "You can brood after you fuck me, and then I'll help you with the science until Kon wakes up." 

Well. Tim should be taking periodic breaks anyway, shouldn't he? To prevent eye strain. 

Or something. 

*


	5. Chapter 5

Tim finds the problem almost at once. 

Well, 'almost at once' as soon as he's got any data to work with.  He wasn't quite expecting to hit paydirt so suddenly, but the whole genome sequence - the sum total of all the genes in his system, both his and anything _else_ that happens to be there - from his freshest blood sample is showing a significant amount of foreign DNA.  There's _something_ in his system that wasn't there two weeks ago.  Something not visible to a light microscope. Something very strange. 

All life on Earth shares a simple genetic code, consisting of four nucleotide bases.  Most alien biology that Tim has studied uses something similar - eight bases, for example, in the Kryptonians, which wreaked all sorts of research havok back when Kon was a work in progress, according to the research files he's hacked. 

Tim's never seen theobromine used as a nucleotide before, but there it is, even once he does the run a third time to control for contamination.

Alien DNA in his blood. Unknown alien DNA, from an unknown source. 

Alien DNA that uses one of the active ingredients of _chocolate_ as a building block.

Tim doesn't even know what to _do_ with that other than immediately tell Batman and start running more samples.  

He goes through a lot of coffee in the next few hours. Caffeine is a methylxanthine, like theobromine, but the stimulant effect on the central nervous system is more pronounced, without the some of the effects on the parasympathetic nervous system, and _theoretically_ the xanthines could work as nucleotides but as far as Tim knows no one's ever _done it_...  

He cuts himself off after four cups and a significant research tangent and gets back on task.

By that time, Tim has successfully introduced the foreign sequence into human cells in serum, and he's getting retroviral particles out the other end. He's also confirmed that Bart, Kon, and Gar are infected.  Vic is clean. _Cassie_ is clean, somehow, even though he's spent just as much time just as close to her as to Kon.  

It's enough to make him wonder if the virus is somehow sex specific, right up until Cassie (who kicks poor Kon out of their room sans-culottes as soon as she gets the word) points out something he should have realized right away. 

"Well, you never fucked me." 

And he was _going_ to - once he got back with the waffles - but - "So you and Kon haven't... I mean, _all day_?" Just the thought of spending that much time with _either_ of them without getting inside of _somebody_ is making his testicles ache a little. 

"And you think I'd trust _just_ the pill against Kon's super swimmers? There's this thing called a condom..."

All right. Point. A little more testing Kon is more than happy to assist with reveals that, yes, the virus is definitely present in semen.  Barely a trace in saliva or sweat - less even than for HIV, so pretty much intransmissible by those routes. No presence detectable in aerosol, even when he coughs directly on the sample plate. It's very clearly a sexually transmitted virus - though blood-to-blood contact would probably work just as well. 

And then there's Dick's samples to consider. 

His blood is absolutely _saturated_ with virus.  Those semen samples he requested haven't arrived yet, but it's probably a safe bet that he's pretty damned contagious. Tim remembers his woozy, achy state the morning after - remembers Bart's feverish skin, and Kon's stumble in the hallway, and slaps himself in the face. 

"You're patient zero, at least for this local outbreak," he tells Dick when he calls with the update. "You were already infected at your last well-check.  I really need that list of partners." 

"I haven't been with anybody new in _ages_ ," Dick swears. "I mean, except for you. And I'm always safe -" 

"Except with me." 

"We both took a full panel blood test the week before! I wasn't - gah!" Dick's the one who slaps himself in the face, this time, and then drops forward out of the camera frame, probably leaning on his knees.  "I'm sorry." He sounds miserable. "I don't know where I picked it up, or when.  I haven't had any of the symptoms you're describing.  I haven't had a fever in months. I swear - I didn't think I was putting you at risk for anything, or I never would have -" 

"It's okay," Tim cuts him off quickly, because he just can't listen to Dick _regretting_ if he can possibly help it.  "Bruce is calling in the big research guns on the treatment end, now that I've got the virus identified and isolated. I'm going to start running your samples over the previous months and see if I can narrow down to an approximation of the date of exposure. I'm not even sure if the virus _does_ anything except make people...uh, aroused. But you should definitely let me know if you start feeling...well, anything." 

"I _feel_ like crap," Dick mutters. "I - Jesus, I'm _always_ careful. I always - wait." He pops back into the frame, and the look on his face is all 'big brother Nightwing.'  "You had _unprotected_ sex with four people? In a _week?"_

"I _know!_ " Tim wails and covers his head with his hands as if it will protect him from Dick's glare. "I told you, I'm not - it's like my brain stopped _working._ I can't pay attention to anything. Kon snuck up on me without even trying last night!" 

He hears Dick suck in a breath, and when he peeks through his fingers, Dick is back to looking awful. "I don't wanna be in your shoes when you get back to the cave," he says with an attempt at a smile. "Didn't he make you watch that thing, with all the slides?" 

"Oh god," Tim says, and says a silent prayer of thanks when the timer on his thermocycler starts beeping and he has an excuse to end the call. 

*

He can't find the infection event. 

He's four years back in Dick's blood samples, now, and he's taken to skipping months to save time. Dick was every bit as infected when he first moved to Bludhaven.  It doesn't make sense. 

In between replication cycles and rounds of analysis, Tim sets up an in vivo run. He splits the mice between several cages, sets up control groups, and starts issuing injections.  

He always hates this part. Not the mice themselves - they're perfectly cute and friendly, just like mice always are.  Watching them play, climbing around the cages and looping around the wheel, making their little nests and fluffing up the hardwood shavings - it's all kind of therapeutic.  Even the injections themselves aren't that bad. There's no reason, so far, to think this pathogen is actually all that dangerous. It's not like he's researching the Clench. 

He still feels guilty. 

But the mice give him something to do while he's waiting for results other than masturbate (or let Bart in again to fuck him against the computer banks, and maybe that will teach Oracle not to seize his systems unannounced - but he kind of doubts it, from the appreciative sound her avatar made).  He's sitting back with his feet up, watching and taking occasional notes as the mice go about their little rodent lives, the tagged, injected mice moving a little slower, a little more cautiously, taking a few more naps. 

A few hours later he's five years back in Dick's samples and still no breakthroughs. The infected mice are all fucking like - can mice fuck like rabbits? They don't seem to be particular about the identities of their partners, or even their sex, but they seem affectionate enough. There's lots of mutual grooming going on. Lots of napping in piles in between bouts of frantic coupling. 

It looks kind of nice, really.    

He misses Dick. 

He could probably go upstairs. Kon's been camped out in Tim's room since Cassie realized she wasn't infected, and when Tim checks the cameras, he and Bart are napping in Tim's bed, tangled up naked in his sheets. There's a green labrador curled up by their feet, and Tim feels very, very lonely down in the labs all by himself. He pets the mice until one of them starts trying to hump his finger, and then he puts the lid back on the cage.  

He lays his head down on his folded arms, watching the mice. He doesn't really intend to tap his com, but by the time he realizes he's thinking about it, Dick's voice is already in his ear. 

"Got something new?" 

"No," Tim says. "Just a lot of very horny mice. You've been infected for at least five years." 

"Seriously?" 

"Yep. The samples running now are from six years back." He yawns. "Oh, tell Roy I found antibodies in his blood, but nothing like in your amounts. Or even mine.  I'm not seeing any viral particles in the blood or semen. Looks like he was exposed at some point but probably never had a full blown infection. Has he got older samples on record somewhere?" 

"I'll ask, but I doubt Ollie's got a fridge full." 

"I was afraid of that.  And I'm having trouble with Starfire's blood sample. I'm not getting good gene amplification with PCR. I'm going to have to try something else, as soon as I think of it.  You ever sequence her?" 

"No, Tim," Dick says, and snorts. "I'm sorry to have to say I have never had the opportunity to examine my girlfriend's genetic code." 

"Maybe Bruce has. Probably plucked some hair samples off your sheets when you were a teenager." 

"Hardy har har," Dick says. "Like we ever did it in the manor. Anyway, I was out of there about a month after me and Kory hooked up.  No, Bruce's never mentioned that to _me_ , and considering the situation I'd really hope he'd fess up by now, creepy nosiness aside.  Maybe Clark can get the Fortress on it?"

"I'll give him a call. I could probably use his help for the alien DNA anyway." Tim doesn't bother to cover his mouth while he yawns. "I really like these mice." 

"Your horny mice?" 

"Yeah. They're... I don't know. Cuter than our usual line. Pretty, even. They have nicer fur. I think they must smell good too, at least to the control mice, because they keep trying to get it on through the bars." 

"Tim," Dick says in his ear, his voice warm and soft and almost like he's really right there. It makes Tim shiver and press his face against his folded arms. "You sound exhausted. When was the last time you left the lab?" 

"My bed's too full," Tim whines. "I wouldn't even fit."

"Hmmm," Dick hums, and it feels nice, all the way down to the base of Tim's spine. "Go lay down on the cot." 

"This batch is almost done-" 

"Go lay down on the cot." There's a sound on the other end of the connection, a shift and a rustle. "I want to listen to you touch yourself." 

Tim laughs weakly, but he thinks the next sound is maybe Dick licking his palm. He gets to his feet and stumbles across the lab to the medical area before stretching out on the cot and slipping his hand into his pants. 

"What if I fix this?" Tim says quietly as he wraps his fingers around himself. "Dick." 

And what he means is, 'what if you stop wanting me?' He can't make himself actually ask the question. 

"You will fix it, because you're one of the most brilliant people I've ever met. You're so smart, and dedicated, and you get this...this look on your face when you're working through a really hard puzzle, and it always makes me want to lick that little line you get between your eyebrows." 

"Dick," Tim says, "You're not supposed to talk about people's stress wrinkles during phone sex. That's bad form." 

"Okay, fair enough. Can I talk about how much I like that sound you make when I pinch your nipples? Oh yeah, that's the one." 

Dick stays on the line with him until he's done, and after.  Tim sleeps the sleep of the sticky and satisfied and doesn't worry about anything at all until the thermocycler starts beeping again three hours later. 

*

"I'll see what I can do," Clark says when Tim calls him about analyzing Tamaranian genetics.  "I doubt that functionality is built in, but the AI can probably work it out with some time.  The Kryptonians were pretty isolationist, but they _really_ didn't like the people of Tamaran. Too emotional and spontaneous, I think.  Of course, by Kryptonian standards, Earth is pretty much one big anarchist orgy, so that isn't necessarily saying much." 

"Well, Earth could very well end up that way, if we don't figure out what this thing is and where it came from. I'm really worried, Clark. This virus was already in Dick's blood eight years ago. That's a lot of time for it to have been spreading undetected." 

"He's usually pretty careful, though." Clark pauses for a long moment, and Tim takes advantage of the gap to check his email. Something from Bruce that's dense and full of enough chemical formulas that Tim's going to need another cup of coffee before he braves it. Something from Dick - 

Oh. The list. 

"I'll swing by to grab samples from you in a few minutes. Though it sounds like a ship just hit an oil rig off Saudi Arabia, so it might be more like ten or fifteen." 

"Okay," Tim says, and hangs up. 

He'd _asked_ Dick for a list. He needs this information. The fate of the world could rest on this information - 

Tim makes a fresh pot of coffee, reads Bruce's email, sets up Dick's blood samples from nine years ago to amplify. Feeds the mice. 

When he can't stall any longer, he opens the file. Just seeing that he's going to have to scroll to see the whole thing makes his stomach flop. Tim's name is at the top of the list. 

Reverse chronological order, then. 

He makes himself read all the way through it, then read through it again.  A lot of the names he already knew about. Koriand'r, Barbara Gordon, Roy Harper and Helena Bertinelli he expected. There are others he wasn't sure about that aren't really a surprise, like Kara Zor-El, Garth of Shayeris, and Donna Troy. He always kind of suspected about Catalina Flores, but seeing her name there makes his guts tighten unpleasantly. Slade Wilson just makes him want to punch something. A lot of somethings. Especially since Joey is on the list, too. 

He's still staring at the document when Superman comes down the stairs, politely moving at human speed. "How old was he?" Tim asks, without looking up. 

Clark stops where he's standing. He doesn't deny anything, but he doesn't answer the question, either. 

"You're on his list. You knew you would be. Right here, between Roy and Barbara. So I figure he was pretty young." He turns and looks at Clark, who's shuffling his feet and staring at nothing in particular. "Were you going to mention it?" 

"If it became relevant. To be honest... I thought you probably already knew. He tells you a lot.  And...you learn a great deal from other sources." 

"Well, he didn't tell me this." Tim can't really help how cold his voice sounds. 

"He's telling you now," Clark says, and finally looks at Tim. He steps closer and sits on the edge of one of the lab tables. "It only happened once. He came to me after..." 

He sounds so guilty that Tim doesn't make him finish the sentence. It's kind of obvious what must have happened. "After Bruce fired him. He told me he went to see you. That you helped him get his head back on." 

Clark breathes out a sigh that lowers the ambient temperature in the immediate area by several degrees.  "He's always been very insistent that I didn't do anything wrong, and that it wasn't a mistake. I've never stopped feeling guilty about it, though. When I look back on it, I'm still not entirely sure what _happened_ , just that... he was so heartbroken and lonely. And beautiful. He swears it helped." 

Superman is fidgeting on Tim's lab table and biting his lip. Tim's not sure if he can manage to stay angry. Or if he should. After all...Tim is the same age now that Dick was then, and he knows how good it felt to have Dick's attention and care. How grateful he'll always be that he got the chance to have that for a little while.  The age gap between Clark and Dick isn't actually much wider than the gap between Dick and Tim.  "Does Bruce know?" 

"We've never talked about it. But... he didn't talk to me for several months. Not until the next big crisis. And things have never quite been the same. I used to work with Batman and Robin a lot more..." 

And Tim had known that, but not why. "I need a blood sample." 

Clark smiles ruefully. "I already checked, as soon as you put the virus's information on the Justice League network. But, I figured you'd want one anyway." He holds out a vial. "As well as Conner has  turned out, I don't think he needs any brothers or sisters right now, so please be careful with that." 

It's a reminder. A sign of trust. The last time Clark gave someone access to his DNA, the results had been...unexpected, to say the least. Tim takes the vial, labels it, and sets it with the others to be analyzed. 

He gives Clark an insulated box with Starfire's samples and nods a goodbye as the other man heads for the door. Behind him, the machines whir on, replicating and amplifying the samples he fed in.  When Dick's blood was drawn for whatever test Bruce had been doing nine years ago that resulted in these samples being stored, Dick had been Tim's age. It's kind of a weird thought. 

He should probably call Dick and see if he can get him to talk about Clark. He puts his head down on folded arms, instead, and watches the mice. 

There's a whole pile of them sharing a nest, two of them fucking while a third grooms them both. They look so happy.  Tim doesn't think he's ever been jealous of a mouse before. 


End file.
